


Atom to Atom (Feel It On Me Love)

by osaki_nana_707



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Original Character Death(s), Underage Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-01
Updated: 2011-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osaki_nana_707/pseuds/osaki_nana_707
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Werewolf!AU. Arthur is sixteen and completely oblivious when he first goes into heat, only saved from it by charismatic senior and other fellow werewolf Eames... and that's not even the most complicated part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Part 1

Ever since Arthur could remember he'd been... _different_.

He hadn't been different in the way other kids were either. He'd been born with a strong sense of smell and agility that was largely ahead of his fellow classmates, and for some reason this caused his parents to be ridiculously over-protective of him. It seemed like these kinds of abilities would have rendered them fearless, but they never let him go to his friends' houses after school, never really allowed him to get out and go anywhere at all, _especially_ after dark. Despite his frustrations and his protests, Arthur's parents assured him it was for the best. They nailed his windows shut and put a lock on his bedroom door from the outside, and he sat on his bed feeling like he was in prison.

At this point, Arthur didn't really _have_ many friends at all. His distance from his fellow classmates and superiority in school had caused him to become the perfect target for teasing, bullying, and ridicule. Even worse, at sixteen, he'd just now "blossomed," shooting up in height and voice dropping low, and until that point he'd felt like a fourth-grader around a bunch of high schoolers. They had all seemed to share the same sentiment. The sudden interest in _guys_ that he couldn't seem to keep secret certainly didn't help matters either.

Arthur started to hate going to school. More so, he started to hate his parents. Weren't teenagers supposed to have a little freedom by this point? He wasn't even allowed to _drive_.

There was a party.

He'd heard it being whispered about, a party on the night of the full moon, and everybody who was anybody was going to go (and he wanted so badly to be _anybody_ ). So, over dinnertime, Arthur took a chance.

"So, um... Bobby Meeler's having a party on Saturday for his seventeenth birthday," he said softly, pushing his peas around on his plate. "Could I... maybe... can I go? Just for a couple of hours?"

His father looked at him as if he'd just asked if he could set the lawn on fire. "No, of course not, Arthur. You know you're not allowed to go out at night."

"It's just one party... and I'm sixteen now. I'm not going to break, you know. I'm responsible. I can handle myself."

"Arthur, honey," his mother said, reaching out and touching his hand. She was going for sweet, but to Arthur it just came across as condescending. "You're _sixteen_. We're protecting you."

"From what?" Arthur asked in exasperation. "Monsters? Drugs? I'm not stupid. I'm not going to do anything stupid. I'll only go for a couple of hours and-"

"The answer is no," his father said sharply, nostrils flaring as if he smelled something strong and vaguely foul, though Arthur wasn't sure what. Arthur squirmed under his gaze, suddenly itchy. "In fact, you'll be staying in your room."

"That's not _fair_ ," Arthur whined, but a sharp look from both parents shut him up.

* * *

Arthur sat on his bed, pouting. The clock beamed 7:02, and his bedroom door was locked. He paced the room, looked through his bookshelf, and straightened his bed covers. The clock beamed 7:03.

"AUUUGH!" Arthur shouted, flopping down onto the bed face first and growling into his pillow. His body was itching with the desire to go _out_ , to be _free_ , and he couldn't _stand it_!

He paced the room more quickly this time, growing more and more exasperated, unable to keep still, and his adrenaline was rushing, rushing, rushing, and he didn't know why.

He looked towards the window where the full moon light was beaming inside, and suddenly his hunger to escape grew stronger. He looked out the window at the ground two stories below and thought _I can make that jump_. It was a bizarre, crazy thought, but it bounced around in his skull until he absolutely had to try.

He rearranged his bed to make it look like someone was sleeping inside of it, pulled the nails out of the window one by one (when had he started to have the strength to do that?), opened it, and stepped out onto the ledge of the house. His heart hammered against his chest as he shut the window, and then he dropped.

Somehow, he landed on his feet... and he ran.

* * *

Arthur ran, ears buzzing, the scenery flying by him in a blur. He didn't know if he'd ever run quite so fast in his life, if he'd ever seen quite so clearly, if he'd ever smelled so strongly-

Wait, what _was_ that smell?

No, no matter.

Arthur ran until he made it to Bobby's house, where the party was just kicking off, ten miles away...

He'd run ten miles. He never knew he was capable of such a thing.

He approached the house slowly, getting some looks from other kids that were lingering outside and drinking beer, and he squirmed, itchy. He knew some of the kids from school, knew that they didn't like him very much. Maybe the party wasn't such a good idea, he thought, but he'd come too far to turn back now.

The music was blaringly loud on his sensitive ears when he got inside, and there were so many smells that it made him dizzy. Were parties supposed to be this much murder on the senses? He could hardly breathe from the strength of the smells of alcohol and other people. For a long time he just found himself moving through the crowd and trying to figure out up from down. He could hear someone asking him what the fuck he was doing there (though his vision was swimming so much that he couldn't tell who it was), could sort of feel some girl rubbing up against him (he wished she wouldn't since it was so fucking _hot_ in the house), and...

Well, he definitely felt it when someone spilled beer all down the front of his shirt.

"Fuck!" he hissed, bolting out the back door into the yard, trying to rub it out with his hands. If his parents smelled beer on him he was screwed, so screwed, so very, very screwed, and... _Ohh..._

Suddenly he didn't feel so good. His itch was starting to get less manageable, his dizziness getting worse, the creeping heat rising even though he was outside... and there was that smell again, that unknown _intoxicating_ smell. Sweet... woodsy... unknown and so…

He was drawn towards it, stumbling out into the woods behind Bobby's house, nearly collapsing to his knees if it weren't for the tree he'd grabbed hold of.

The lights and noises of the house faded behind him, leaving him alone with the sound of the crickets and that enchanting smell. Just as he started to tell himself he needed to go back, he spotted a stream and momentarily forgot the smell. "Oh, yes," Arthur said thankfully, tugging off his shirt and lowering it into the water, trying to scrub out the smell of alcohol. It would have been better if he had some soap, but it would have to do for the time being. If he could just get the alcohol smell to fade a little, then he could run back home and—

 _OH_.

The itchy heat slammed into him again suddenly, so hard that he nearly fell forward into the stream. Panting, his face flushed, he looked up at the stars to try and get his wits about him. They seemed to be spinning.

Vaguely, he recognized the quiet crunch-crunch of an approach and...

"Hey... I know you. You're that one bloke… ah… forget your name. What are you doing out here?"

Arthur looked over his shoulder, wheezing.

It was... Eames?

Eames was the school superstar, a staple in quite a few sports teams if it so suited him that year and the lead in just about every school play. He was a senior, British, and charismatic as hell, and everyone loved and worshiped the ground he walked on... What the hell was he doing out in the woods away from his fans and- _Jesus Christ_ was that tormenting and glorious smell coming from _him_?

Arthur whimpered before he could stop himself. He tried to stand but only managed to fall to the ground, rolling in the dirt pathetically. He couldn't believe _Eames_ was seeing him like this and would have been embarrassed had his body not already been a disaster of sensations.

"Oh," Eames said, surprise flying across his features. "You... You? _You_?"

"M-me-" Arthur stammered, stumbling to his feet and grabbing hold of a tree. He felt so hot all over, like he was burning up inside, even in the cool night air. "What're you doing here... why do you smell... Oh, God..."

"Jesus," Eames hissed. "I thought I was the only one of my kind at school... but _you_? Really? _You_?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Arthur whined and dropped to his knees, shaking. "What's happening to me? Did- did you do this with that smell? That thing on you that smells- Did you poison me? Did someone poison me? Something's wrong with me-"

It didn't matter that it didn't make sense. He was just burning and dizzy and... hard... Wait, that was weird. Why the hell was… _Fuck_ , he couldn't hold onto a thought. All that mattered was getting it to _stop_.

"You idiot, you're in heat," Eames said. "Don't you know better than to go out by yourself?"

"Animals go into heat, not humans," Arthur growled, realizing immediately when Eames knelt next to him that the smell was not something Eames was carrying but Eames himself. He also noticed just how good-looking he was when he was up close.

"You're not human though," Eames said in wonder. "I thought I was the only one... I thought there weren't any other wolves about outside of my pack, but look at you. You're one of us... I never would have suspected a scrawny git like you to be one of us."

Arthur whimpered when Eames's hand met the back of his neck, arching into his touch. "I don't... know what you're talking about..." he said again, somewhat uselessly.

Recognition washed over Eames. "Oh, my God..." he said, stunned. "They... they never _told_ you. They never _told you_?"

Arthur stumbled to his feet only to fall clumsily into Eames's arms and started to cry out as his cock pressed painfully against his zipper. "Told me what? Please- just make it stop- Please, please, _please_ make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, please..."

Eames stared down at Arthur, his eyes as bright as the moon. Suddenly, Arthur was attacking his mouth in a kiss. It was fumbling and inexperienced, but Eames didn't stop him. After a moment, he was actually kissing him back, easing Arthur to the leaf covered ground. His hand trailed down Arthur's bare chest, igniting the nerve endings that were already screaming.

"What bastards your parents must be, expecting you to just..." he trailed off when his hand ghosted over Arthur's fly, and Arthur yelped, bucking up into his hand.

"Please... please..." Arthur begged breathlessly. "I won't tell anyone, just do something... just do something... You know what's wrong, please help me..."

"Poor thing," Eames whispered and undid Arthur's button and zipper, tugging the trousers down his legs. "I never thought that you were one of us. You always had an interesting smell, but it doesn't smell quite like me... and it doesn't smell like my older brother either. You're... not an alpha... I don't think you're a beta... Perhaps you're from a different clan-"

Arthur shouted when Eames took hold of his prick, coming just from the touch until his body was completely spent... Yet, he was still hard, as if he hadn't come at all. He started to cry. "Please, please, do something, please..." he begged.

Eames dipped his fingers lower, curious as he met with his entrance and found hardly any effort waiting for him. "Did you prepare yourself earlier? Was this planned?"

"No..." Arthur sobbed, pushing down onto the fingers as if he couldn't control it (and he really couldn't). "I don't even know what that means... I don't know what's happening... Please..."

Eames took a long whiff of the air as he leaned over him, pupils blown, and he growled, "You're an omega. How is that possible? I thought they were extinct."

Arthur stared up at him, looking for some sort of explanation but really hoping for something else, and then Eames kissed him again, as if he couldn't control himself, and Arthur pressed as much of his feverish body against Eames as he possibly could, rutting against him.

"Fuck," Eames hissed and made quick work of undoing his own fly. "Fuck, I can't- tell me that I-"

" _Please_ ," Arthur gasped, suddenly realizing that this was exactly what he needed. He wasn't sure why. He just knew. He needed it. He would _die_ if he didn't get it.

Eames flipped him on his back and pushed in with little to no effort, and Arthur came a second time just from the fullness of it. "There, there, now, you can take it," Eames whispered, holding on until his body stopped trembling to start moving.

Arthur pressed his face into the dirt, wheezing for air as he became nearly instantly hard again.

Eames fucked him. He screamed and howled as Eames slammed into him roughly again and again, and it felt so bad and so good at the same time, fingernails digging into the dirt as the moon, their only witness, beamed down upon them. "Yeah, that's it," Eames growled.

"Harder, harder," Arthur chanted mindlessly, and Eames obliged, pounding into him relentlessly until all of a sudden he fell still. "Don't- don't stop, don't-" Arthur stammered.

"Fuck, fuck-" Eames gasped, entire body trembling and then... Arthur felt it.

Eames was getting _bigger_ inside of him. He was swelling up and it was only when it started to hurt that Arthur realized how much. Panic immediately started to set in. Arthur clawed at the ground, clenching down on him, and the pain mixed together in the weirdest sort of pleasure caused him to come harder than he had either time before combined, harder than he _ever_ had.

Eames spilled into him too for what seemed like forever, and then flopped to the side with Arthur still attached to him. Arthur tried to move off of him, but he couldn't have done it even if he'd had the strength. "I'm sorry..." Eames panted against his ear. "Didn't realize how close I was..."

"What's happening?" Arthur croaked, but before Eames could answer, he was unconscious.

* * *

Arthur awoke about an hour later, itching and squirming. Hazily he registered that he was being fucked again. "Yes, yes," he stammered, numbly grabbing at the earth. He barely knew what was going on until Eames was stretching him out, making him start to ache, and he clenched down on him again, barely aware that he was coming. He dropped off again as soon as it was over.

When he regained consciousness again (at least that he could remember), it was, according to his cell phone, 3:00 A.M., and he was alone. He got up, every muscle protesting. He pulled his jeans up and grabbed his shirt out of the stream. Had there not been the constant reminder of a screaming ache everywhere, he would have thought it to be some sort of insane dream.

The shirt was still sopping wet even after he squeezed it out, but he put it on anyway and limped his way back towards Bobby's house.

The party was still going strong to Arthur's astonishment, and he hated the fact that he'd be forced to pass at least someone in the effort to get home. He was covered in dirt, wet, and aching. His hair was a rumpled mess, and, while the terrible fever seemed to have dissipated, he was still dizzy.

He lowered his head and tried to make his way through the crowd without drawing much attention to himself, but he only made it halfway across the lawn before someone noticed him.

"Well, well, Arthur Pearson. What the fuck are you doing here?"

Arthur cringed and slowly turned to look at the group of boys approaching, a couple of the typical big-brute types who seemed to like Arthur as their favorite thing to bully. "I... I was just leaving," Arthur croaked.

"You're not goin' anywhere," their leader Scott said, reaching out to grab Arthur's shirt collar, pulling back his fist. He was grinning over the opportunity to hit him. Scott had always been the type who enjoyed a little violence. Arthur always figured he was compensating for something, but he wouldn't dare say that out loud and risk being murdered.

Scott never got the chance to hit him this time.

Arthur turned when someone grabbed hold of Scott's wrist, twisting it sharply and causing him to drop Arthur.

It was Eames... Oh, thank God!

Wait, what the fuck?

"Eames, what the-" one of the others cried (Arthur thought his name might be Brad or Brent or something), and Eames threw down Scott with a little more force than necessary.

"Touch him and you die, are we clear?" Eames growled, and all of them slumped back from him.

"But... he's a fucking nerd- you eat guys like him for breakfast... What the fuck?"

"Touch him. And. You die. Clear?" Eames asked, and they all bobbed their heads up and down before scurrying away.

Eames turned to Arthur, expression unreadable. "You're a mess."

"You left me in the woods," Arthur said weakly, wanting to sound angry but lacking the strength.

"I don't owe you any favors," Eames replied, taking him by the elbow and leading him through the party crowd and out into the street. "Where do you live?"

"T... ten miles from here," Arthur mumbled, legs nearly giving out as he explained the street and address.

"I'll drive you home then, I suppose."

Arthur followed Eames to a hot black convertible, awkwardly slipping into the black leather passenger seat. "Thought you didn't owe me any favors," he mumbled.

"I don't, but... well... They still don't have any right to kick the shit out of you. I hate people who get their jollies off of violence for the sake of it. If you're going to fight, you're supposed to have a purpose, and you should never pick a fight with someone who doesn't stand a chance against you, ah, no offense. You probably could have taken him at full strength."

Arthur shrugged. "I doubt that."

" Plus I... well... I ah- I couldn't help myself. Like it or not, I'm heat-bonded to you for a bit, so my instincts will make me protective of you. It should pass in time." He started the car.

"Yeah, but... about that... what the fuck do you mean by all of that? Heat? Alphas? Stuff like that? You said I was like you... I don't understand."

"That's because your parents didn't tell you," Eames sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know why, but they didn't. You'll have to take that up with them... but ah- basically um- have you heard of werewolves?"

"Yeah... duh. They're supernatural- horror stories, movies... fake."

"Not exactly. It's not as simple as movies make them out to be. You don't transform during the full moon. You transform when you learn how and when you get too angry. It's an adrenaline thing."

"Wait... s-so you're telling me that I'm a _werewolf_? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Arthur snorted, frowning.

"Dumb or not, it's the truth. There are three types. Alphas, betas, and omegas. I'm an alpha male, a born leader and the future leader of the pack since my father died. My older brother is a beta. He's below me in rank despite his age because he doesn't have the same physical qualities that I do. Alphas run the pack, betas take up the rest of it, you see? And you… Well, I suppose that you're an omega- you're... extremely rare. I thought there weren't any of you left."

"So, what's an omega?"

"Not completely sure... All I know is they're sometimes referred to as 'bitch males' and they can lubricate themselves."

"Oh, great," Arthur said sarcastically. "That's exactly what I needed to add to my reputation. That's the cherry on top. What happened to me tonight?"

"You went into heat. I'm assuming it's your first one considering your reaction."

"So... we go into heat. Well, how convenient for me," Arthur grumbled.

"Don't get mad at me, I'm just telling you the truth."

Arthur sighed. "Okay. I'm sorry. I'm just kind of... _freaking out_ right now."

"You'll be all right."

"How long is this heat thing supposed to last?"

"Oh, I'm sure you're about over it now. It was only your first heat. You should be fine. I probably fucked it out of you pretty good- Oh, and um, sorry about that. It's a bit difficult for me to resist an omega in heat. I tried not to, but you kept asking me to, so-"

"It's fine, whatever," Arthur mumbled, slumping in the seat. "Thanks for helping me out."

Eames shrugged. "It wasn't really any trouble for me. I'd just been coming off of my own heat cycle. The only reason I went to that bloody party was to get some, but I couldn't stand the noise and the smells."

"Me neither."

"Oh, if it was bad for me it must have been bloody unbearable for you. When heat starts your senses go fucking haywire. They've probably been gradually increasing for days." Arthur squirmed in his seat a little, blushing. He hadn't realized it before, but it definitely made sense now.

"I guess..." he mumbled. "So, uh... what now?"

"Nothing," Eames shrugged, turning a corner and coming to a stop in front of Arthur's house at Arthur's feeble point. "You went into heat, I fucked you out of it, end of story."

"B-but... you said that I was the only other one like you. So, you and I are the only werewolves at school... so..."

"So what?" Eames asked.

"So... we aren't like... comrades or something now? I mean-"

"Look, ah-"

"Arthur."

"Arthur- I don't even know what pack you belong to, all right? I do know you're not a part of mine, and as far as I've known so far we're the only pack in this area. Sex is just sex. Once my heat-bonding with you passes, everything will go back to the way it was."

"Oh..." Arthur said gloomily.

"Don't sound so disappointed," Eames laughed.

"I'm not," Arthur said, but he sounded even more disappointed. Eames didn't understand... wasn't the whole 'first time' thing supposed to be special? Wasn't the whole 'losing his virginity' thing supposed to be with someone who cared about him and _knew his name_? "So- uh... anyway... um, the thing that you- your uh- when we were-"

It was Eames's turn to blush. "They really didn't tell you anything. Um... yeah, that was just uh... a knot. It's used in mating rituals; only alphas can do it- nothing for you to worry about. You can only mate with a female. You know... pups and whatnot."

Arthur just stared at him, somehow feeling… unsure... "Well... thanks for the ride... I'll just uh... climb back in my window now." He climbed out of the car, legs and ass stinging.

Eames didn't even stick around to say goodbye, leaving Arthur in the dust.

Arthur sighed and made the difficult climb up a tree and the jump to his window sill, tumbling into his room without the grace he had possessed earlier in the evening.

Slowly, he limped into the attached bathroom. He immediately caught sight of his reflection and frowned. He looked like he'd been mauled and buried. His eyes were sunken in, his lips bitten raw, and when he pulled off his clothes he found that he was bruised and scratched and bitten. He'd never been such a wreck.

He climbed into the shower, and the hot water soothed his aches at least somewhat, and he took his time bathing though he couldn't seem to get the lingering scent of Eames completely off of him for quite some time. Maybe it was just still in his nostrils.

He dressed in his most comfy pair of pajamas and curled up in bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

Something felt different, but he was too tired to dwell on it.

* * *

Surprisingly, Arthur didn't get caught sneaking out.

He wasn't sure how he'd managed that miracle, but his parents had been none the wiser when he came downstairs the next morning, bleary-eyed and achy but otherwise completely fine. His bruises and bite marks were hidden underneath his clothes and Eames's smell was completely absent.

"How are you this morning, Arthur?" his mother asked, and for a moment her expression shifted leading Arthur to believe that he'd been discovered. Quickly as it appeared, it vanished.

Arthur looked from her to his father, the new knowledge Eames had given him blossoming in his head. "What happened to me last night?" he asked, voice hoarse. "I felt weird, and then... well, I don't know…"

"I'm sure it's just the weather or something," his father said, opening his paper to conveniently hide his expression.

Quietly simmering with rage, Arthur grabbed the toast out of the toaster as it popped up and left for school, slamming the door behind him.

Apparently, they intended to keep him in the dark. It was too bad Eames had already turned on the light.

* * *

School was the same as always except for the fact Arthur was left pretty much alone on the bully side of things and able to just concentrate on his school work (not that he needed to, being straight-A as it was). He kept to himself like he usually did, shuffling from class to class, going home, coming back. The only odd thing was that Arthur felt like he was seeing more of Eames as the days passed, but he thought that perhaps maybe he was just finally bothering to notice. Maybe he'd been there all along and Arthur hadn't been paying attention. He never spoke to him anyways.

His peace lasted for about a week, and then Scott decided his grace period had been long enough and was out for revenge (as if Arthur had done anything).

Arthur's back slammed against the locker, and he yelped, wincing. "Leave me alone!" he shouted, thrashing a bit uselessly in Scott's grip while his group of cronies snorted and laughed. He'd been so worn out ever since the heat. He still hadn't gotten over his fatigue.

"You think someone's going to come to your rescue this time, you little shit? Now, I've got a proposition for you. You can do my English paper for me, and I won't break your nose, only bruise it, clear?"

"Fuck you!" Arthur cried out and instantly regretted it, flinching when he saw the fist come sailing his way.

The next thing Arthur knew, he was on the floor, his nose was bleeding, and there was someone crying.

It wasn't Arthur.

Eames had tackled the guy and punched him in the jaw. "What did I say before?" he growled. "Bastard, _what did I say_?"

"Why are you sticking up for him?" his friend whined, helping him up.

"Piss off," Eames snarled, eyes flashing momentarily gold, and they bolted.

Arthur stared, mesmerized. "Wh... what?"

"Fuck!" Eames complained, punching a nearby locker and leaving a rather severe dent in it. "Why haven't I broken this yet? Fuck!"

"What, your hand?" Arthur asked, and Eames seemed to remember he was there.

Arthur sniffed, feeling blood run down the back of his throat.

Eames pulled him to his feet and checked his nose. "Not broken," he mumbled.

"What's not broken?" Arthur piped up again.

"The heat-bonding," Eames said lowly just in case anyone was around. Arthur found himself staring at Eames's collarbone, licking his lips. "Also, your nose isn't broken either."

"Oh," Arthur said distractedly. "Um... so?"

"This bond should have been broken days ago..." Eames grumbled and sniffed at his hair. "Why d'you smell different? New shampoo?"

"I don't think so," Arthur said, wiping his nose on his wrist. "I'll just… I'll go now then."

Eames sighed, taking Arthur by the wrist. Arthur was a bit thrown by how his hand could wrap all the way around it with no issue. Eames dragged him into the bathroom and propped him up on the sink and dug out a handkerchief from his bag, wetting it down and wiping Arthur's face with it. "Tilt your head back."

Arthur did so, and after a few minutes, the bleeding stopped.

"Thanks," Arthur said awkwardly.

"Something- something is wrong. I shouldn't still be bonded to you like this," Eames said. "I shouldn't be compelled to follow you around."

So he _had_ been seeing more of Eames.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," he said softly, expression mildly alarmed.

"Well, I don't mind you protecting me," Arthur offered teasingly, and he smiled, and momentarily Eames seemed dumbstruck. "What?" he asked, grin faltering.

"Have you ever done that before?"

"Done what?"

"Smiled."

"You're an idiot," Arthur replied flatly.

Eames cleared his throat and looked at the ground, biting at his lip. "It'll- It'll pass. Few more days. It'll pass."

Arthur hopped down off of the sink. "All right, uh... see you later then."

"Right..."

The bathroom door clapped shut behind him.

* * *

It didn't pass.

Over the next few weeks, Arthur found the bullying of his person dropping off completely, all because Eames would step in whenever he was in danger, and, while he appreciated it, it was a bit unnerving. Eames was basically stalking him it seemed, always everywhere Arthur went but never lingering close enough for Arthur to talk to. He'd just send subtle glances in his direction.

Arthur, for one, was having trouble dealing with it because he had his own problems. He was still trying to figure out just _what_ he was, but there wasn't anyone he could talk to, and the internet had not provided any help. Besides, he'd been embarrassed to search, afraid his parents would check his web browser (and probably a little scared of what he would find)... and on top of that, he was _tired_. His body just didn't seem to want to get up and go in the mornings, probably because he spent a lot of the night going to the bathroom. So, really, Eames's hovering around him seemed more freaky and unsettling than the bullies themselves.

It was afternoon about six weeks after all of this had started, and Arthur was shutting his locker when suddenly Eames was there next to him. Arthur jumped back, startled. "Eames," he gasped.

"Your smell is off," Eames said. "It's been off."

"I know. You told me that before."

"That's what it is," Eames said, having decided this. "That's what's keeping me bonded to you. It's that weird smell. What _is_ that smell?"

"Fuck if I know," Arthur replied, leaning away from his nose.

His head swam a bit.

"You have to know, it's your smell. What did you do? Shampoo, deodorant?"

"Ugh- nothing is- uh- nothing is different..." Arthur stammered, going suddenly very green, holding onto the lockers with one hand, his stomach with the other. "I... mmph... I think I'm gonna be sick..."

"I'm sorry if I offend you so much-" Eames huffed, thinking that Arthur was teasing him.

"Not kidding," Arthur said frantically, and Eames seemed to notice just two seconds too late.

Arthur hurled on him.

"Oh, bloody- bloody hell!" Eames cried out, stumbling away from the line of fire, even though he was already covered in sick.

"M'sorry..." Arthur said, slumping against the lockers.

"That's disgusting!"

"I tried to warn you!" Arthur retorted weakly, sitting and burying his face in his knees. "I was sick this morning too... and the day before yesterday. I think it's the stress of finding out my whole life has been a fucking _lie_."

Eames tugged off his vomit-covered shirt, not seeming to care that they were still on school grounds. It wasn't as if there was anyone around. "Look, I'm sorry your life sucks, but you could just _ask_ your parents about all this rather than lamenting your existence all the time."

"I did. They pretended not to know anything. They intend to keep me out of the loop forever I guess."

Eames fished a basketball jersey out of his gym bag and slipped it on, sighing. "Come on... I'll drive you home."

"I'm not a charity case."

"Just... let me?"

"I puked on you."

"Are you coming or not?"

Arthur sighed, getting to his feet with Eames's help, and trudged off to the car.

It was pouring down rain, so both of them were soaked by the time they crawled into Eames's car. The drops pitter-pattered against the roof but were mostly drowned out by the music coming from the radio.

Once they were out of the parking lot, Eames turned the music down low and said, "They've been talking about us, you know."

"They?" Arthur asked.

"Everyone. They think I'm barking mad because I'm so protective of you all of a sudden. That or, well, they think you're doing my homework for me or something."

"Yeah well..." Arthur mumbled, but didn't really have much more to say.

"It's kind of awful really, how they think you're something so meager and insignificant."

"Such is my life-"

"You're not."

Arthur stared at him as though he'd sprouted another head. "What?"

"You're not what they think you are. I've been watching you. I see how you are... You're not... an answer-machine or a pompous snob. You make mistakes like everyone else, and you're shy, and you're... lonely."

Arthur swallowed thickly and said, "I am not lonely."

"You don't have any friends."

"I do so. They're mostly online friends. It's... it's just hard to talk to people around here..." he looked away, ashamed of himself. "I've always felt like I was different, and now I know why, but it doesn't help me at all... I still don't know what I am other than what I'm called."

"My parents have some old tomes in their library about it. I'd have to hunt them down though."

"You have a library?" Arthur asked, a bit surprised. "Maybe I can help you find it. I'm good at finding books. I work in the library at school."

Eames took a right instead of a left, and Arthur knew they were headed to Eames's house. "Well, the pack is out on a trip, so it's just me there since I didn't want to accompany. Let us see what we can see, yeah?"

Arthur smiled at him, dimpling his cheeks, and for some reason that made Eames's cheeks flush.

* * *

Eames's house was way out in the middle of nowhere. Arthur discovered this because he fell asleep to the sound of the rain beating against the windows and woke up an hour later to find they were just getting there.

When he saw the house, he understood why... because it wasn't really a house so much as it was, "A FREAKING CASTLE."

"It's not a castle," Eames said, hitting a button so the gates would open. "It's just a big place."

"There are probably rooms in here you've never been in," Arthur said flatly. "It's a castle. I've never seen a house this big in my life."

Eames pulled the car around behind the fountain of marble wolves and stopped. "Don't embarrass me, darling."

"Darling?" Arthur questioned, heart thudding a bit more quickly for some reason.

Eames seemed to catch himself. "Oh, ah... it's a... a British thing... we're old money by the way."

The inside of the house seemed somehow bigger than the outside, and Arthur for one thought that the ornateness of it all was borderline tacky. He didn't say anything about it though. "You're in this place all by yourself?" he asked, hearing his voice echo off of the high ceilings.

"A lot of the time, yes," Eames said. "It's not too bad. I actually like to get away from it all once in a while. I'm a bit of a lone wolf, pardon the pun."

"It's just you and your parents here?"

"No, no, of course not. My father is dead, so my uncle heads the household. My uncle and aunt, my cousins, my brother, my grandparents, my mother, we all live here."

"I thought that you were the alpha."

"Well... I am- technically, but... when my father died I was too young to take the helm, and to get my position, I'll have to knock my uncle out of power. That means he'll have to die. Frankly, I'd rather focus on other things right now."

Arthur licked his lips, uncomfortable, and quickly changed the subject, "So, um... where's the library?"

* * *

The library was massive. It was floor upon floor of books, and Arthur suddenly started to feel like this job was too difficult for him. He immediately felt tired at the sight of all the spines, not knowing what to look for or even where to start.

"This way. Restricted section, I'd wager."

Arthur followed, alarmed and oddly thrilled by the feel of Eames's hand on the small of his back. He snorted, trying to hide his flush. "Restricted section? Lead the way then, Harry Potter."

Eames chuckled. "You're not funny. It's that smell that's making you funny."

The restricted section was nothing to sniff at either. It took up nearly a fourth of the gigantic library. "It's going to take days to sift through all of this... possibly even weeks..." Arthur said dismally.

Eames seemed to have a similar reaction at the realization if the look on his face was any indication. "Well... I suppose we should get started then, yeah?"

They started searching.

After about four hours, they hadn't gotten anywhere. Arthur had had to run to the bathroom twice and was now slumped against a shelf, staring at words but not really reading them. "This is hopeless," he croaked as he felt Eames's shadow descend over him.

"We can take a break," Eames said, and Arthur tensed as he felt Eames's hand slide up his thigh to his hip.

Arthur turned towards him, swallowing thickly. "E-Eames?" he asked, voice tiny.

"Mm?" Eames asked, dazed.

"You're um... really close to me..." Arthur said, leaning back against the shelf.

"You just smell good," Eames said. "I don't know what it is, but with you here, alone like this... I just... can't get enough of it. It's not mixed in with all those scents from school."

He leaned into him, thigh pushing between Arthur's legs, and buried his nose against Arthur's hair. Arthur squirmed a little, kind of liking how Eames's strong thigh felt underneath him. "I don't smell anything," he said softly. "All I know is my breath probably smells like vomit, even though I used the mouthwash in the bathroom- _ah_ -"

Eames mouthed at his neck, dragging his teeth gently across the skin, and Arthur forgot all forms of English that he knew for a long moment.

"Fuck, I don't know what it is- but... that smell... it's so good... it makes me want to fuck you."

Arthur choked on words for a moment, tilting his head back to let Eames lick at his collarbone. "Then why- uhn- why don't you?"

Eames growled in delight, gripping his hips in his large hands. "Is that an invitation?" He rubbed his thigh against Arthur's groin, and the whimper he received was really all he needed.

It got a bit hazy after that. There had been a clumsy fumbling with his jeans, and then he was hoisted up so his legs were wrapped around Eames, and Eames pressed him up against the bookshelf and shoved inside.

The angle was awkward, and Arthur still wasn't sure how to do anything, so he just rolled with his instincts, arms splayed along the shelves behind him, gripping on for dear life.

Eames changed angles with a grunt, which caused Arthur's hand to knock books off of the shelf, crying out as they tumbled and scattered.

"Put your arms around me," Eames rasped against Arthur's shoulder, nosing the collar of his shirt as far away as he could.

Arthur did as told and a moment later they were crashing to the floor, entangled in each other, kissing messily. Arthur moaned, Eames's hands rucking up his shirt tail and feeling all over and everywhere, digging his nails in in places just enough to make Arthur's skin tingle. He was kissing down his chest when all of a sudden he stopped, and Arthur whimpered at the halt in movement. "What? What did I do? What's wrong?" he asked through gasps for air.

"S-sorry," Eames said, fighting back a grin. "Just ah-"

Arthur propped himself up on his elbows, looking for the reason why. It didn't take long for him to find it.

"Um... no offense, but ah-" Eames said with a slight giggle. "You've got rather good-sized nips on you."

Arthur's whole face turned red, and he pulled his shirt down over them in humiliation. "They're not always like that," he said, voice cracking. "Th-they're usually like anyone else's. They just... got darker and bigger for some reason. Fuck, I hate puberty."

"That's not puberty. That's weird," Eames said, and the note of concern in his voice made Arthur's heart thump harder in his chest. "I've never seen that before."

Arthur looked around wildly for some sort of distraction, not wanting to hear it. "D-does it make me unfuckable?"

Eames smiled. "No, 'course not," he said, and leaned over him, pressing him back down to the floor with his weight, licking into his mouth.

It only took Arthur a couple of minutes before he was groaning as he came, and Eames was right behind him, pulling out before he tied with Arthur and sending come across Arthur's belly.

"You're nasty," Arthur said flatly when he saw the mess, then gasped when Eames proceeded to lick it off of him.

"You hungry?" Eames asked.

"Um."

"I'm hungry. Come on, let's take a break."

"We already did."

Eames grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of the library. Arthur marveled at the size of Eames's hand and how warm it was around his wrist.

* * *

While Eames was mulling about in the kitchen looking for something to microwave, Arthur found himself curled up in an overstuffed arm chair, answering his buzzing cell phone. "Hello?" he said.

"Arthur!" his mother's voice, "Where the hell are you? School was out of session hours ago!"

"Oh- um..." he looked around, "I'm doing a project with some other students. We have a lot of research to do, so we went to the library. I texted you about it... It must not have sent. You know how my phone is."

She fell silent for a moment, as if waiting for her anger to wind down. "Be home soon then. You know you're not allowed to stay out late."

"Yes, ma'am."

After hanging up, relieved he didn't have to come up with whatever 'project' it was on the spot, Eames came wandering back in. "Well, I don't know how to cook, so I can order out for us. Got any cravings?"

Arthur watched him for a long minute, thinking, as a matter of fact he did. "Something spicy," he said. "It's weird. I don't even like spicy food, but I totally want something spicy."

"I'll get Indian food then," Eames said with a grin and disappeared into the kitchen again.

Arthur settled into his chair, digging out his science book to go over the notes he'd shoved inside of it for the next day's quiz. He'd barely started to look at it when the next thing he knew he was being shaken gently awake.

"Huh?... What?" he asked, staring blearily up at the ridiculously high ceiling. His notes were scattered on the floor, one leg thrown over the arm of the chair, one leg propped up in the curve of the back.

"Food's here," Eames said, and Arthur tumbled out of the chair. "Jeez, I can't seem to get enough sleep."

"You might need to see a doctor," Eames said, setting out the food.

"Yeah, I'm so sure my biology of being a werewolf won't completely freak out a doctor. We have a family doctor, and even if I went to him in secret, he'd probably tell my parents," he sat on his knees in front of the coffee table, opening up the takeout. "I don't even know who I can trust anymore besides you."

"Me?" Eames asked, chuckling a little. "Why would you trust me? I've been a right arse to you."

"You're the only one who's told me the truth," Arthur replied simply as he quietly ate his food. It was like Eames knew exactly what he wanted, and Arthur had never even had Indian food before.

"Arthur, I..." Eames started and trailed off. Arthur looked up at him through his eyelashes. "I... You're an all right bloke. Don't let anyone tell you differently."

"Considering you're the only English student at our school, I doubt anyone's going to call me an un-all right bloke," Arthur said with a smirk. Eames's face burst into a grin as well.

Arthur was beginning to suspect that they might be friends after all.

* * *

After they had finished eating, the sun was starting to set, so Eames drove Arthur home.

They were halfway there when Arthur realized, "I've got a couple of drops of come on my shirt. Fuck."

"Well, at least you didn't have vomit on your shirt," Eames offered with a slight chuckle. "Just turn it inside out and avoid your folks until you're in different clothes. Shove the shirt into the back of your wardrobe."

"You act like you've done this before," Arthur said with a small chuckle, tugging his shirt over his head and flipping it. He took a moment though to look at his chest again, shaking his head. "Fuck... I must look like some kind of freak. I'm glad I don't have to take my shirt off in gym class."

"From what I can tell, you've been cutting gym class anyways."

"I'm just so tired," Arthur offered pathetically, slumping in his seat after pulling his shirt back on. "I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe my whole body's just shutting down or something. If I die, you'll come to my funeral, right?"

Eames laughed loud and joyful, and Arthur for one thought it was a terribly pleasant sound. "Yes, of course, but I don't think you have anything to worry about. I've never heard of anyone dying from big dark nipples."

Arthur couldn't help but laugh at that too. They laughed until it hurt to laugh and gradually fell quiet.

"You know..." Arthur said after the silence had dragged on for a bit. "I uh... I had never been with anyone before you. I'm... kind of glad that you... took a little time to put up with me."

Eames sighed. "Arthur, look, I- what I said- I'm sorry about that. It was really bloody awful of me. There was no reason behind that. I was just a little crazed from the scent of heat. I didn't know anything about you, and I was kind of worried you'd start claiming I forced myself on you, but... well, I know you a bit better now, and I know what a good bloke you are, and I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Arthur said. "You've been way nicer to me than most people."

"And that sucks," Eames told him, "because you're one of the few people I know with dignity."

"I hardly think letting people shove me into lockers and put my head in the toilet is dignified... Besides, you're just saying that because you're bonded to me." Arthur wasn't sure why it was so hard fight back on getting his hopes up.

Eames's eyebrows drooped, but he didn't say anything else about it. Arthur knew there was no way he could prove the statement true or false.

Eames stopped about a block from Arthur's house and Arthur thanked him for the ride. Eames tugged him close by the shirt collar and kissed him goodbye, and Arthur was so dazed by it that he missed his house and had to round back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Werewolf!AU. Arthur is sixteen and completely oblivious when he first goes into heat, only saved from it by charismatic senior and other fellow werewolf Eames... and that's not even the most complicated part.

Part 2

For the next few days, Arthur went over to Eames's house to search for information on omegas, but there was too much ground to cover and not enough time. Eames insisted Arthur stay away when the rest of his pack was around, and while Arthur didn't understand why, he didn't question it. He trusted Eames's judgment.

Eames kept watch over him during school. Sometimes he'd even approach like he wanted to talk, but then he'd usually be dragged away by some of his friends (Arthur assumed). Arthur was surprised to find he started to miss his company, but he didn't have time to really dwell on it too much.

His workload was starting to increase as they moved deeper into the semester, and Arthur was starting to feel buried under it. He was exhausted all the time, and he constantly had to go to the bathroom whether to piss or vomit (he still couldn't seem to kick whatever was making him sick). Worst of all, he had developed a horrible and distracting onslaught of soreness in his chest. He thought the muscles might even be swollen.

Despite the random attacks of nausea, he still felt bloated and was suffering from a rather awful bout of heartburn more often than not. He figured it had something to do with his constant craving for spicy foods followed by sweet foods. Admittedly, he had been eating a bit more lately... Maybe he was actually just gaining weight, which was weird because he'd always been a bit of a bean pole.

He checked himself out in the mirror one morning after he got out of the shower, running his hand over his body and discovered it was indeed a lot softer than it had been. As much as he wanted to blame it on poor dieting habits and stress from school, there was this weird feeling that he couldn't seem to shake saying that it was something else… but what?

Then, one afternoon, he was just leaving class and was grabbed sharply by the arm. Before he knew what was happening, he was being dragged down the hallway and out of the back of the school. "What- I- Eames?" he stammered, trying to keep in step with him. "It's- I've still got two more classes!"

"Get in the car," Eames said gravely, and Arthur did. "We're going for a quick drive. I need to talk to you."

It was then that Arthur noticed how ashen Eames was in the face. "What's... what's wrong?" Arthur asked.

Eames swallowed thickly, pulling out of the parking lot. "I've been continuing research for you since you couldn't do it. I felt like I owed it to you, and all that, but ah… I ah... I think I found something."

"What did you find?" Arthur asked, pleased until he saw the tremble of Eames's lip. Suddenly, he was _terrified_.

"Well, ah... I found an old book on omegas. See, ah... you don't understand just how _rare_ you are. I didn't either… I um… Oh, how do I fucking put this? Ah… Did you know that all werewolves used to be male?"

"No... I didn't know anything about werewolves- but... Hold on, wait, that's ridiculous. How would there still be werewolves if they were all guys? Are we immortal or something? Did you forget to tell me we're immortal?"

Eames's hands were shaking on the steering wheel, and Arthur realized he was witnessing the ever cool-headed Eames losing his cool. It was alarming to say the least. "Um... well, ah... it's complicated but, I mean... we're _different_ , you know? We've got the alphas- the leaders, the betas- the middle ground, and the omegas... the ah... um..."

"The bitch males?" Arthur asked flatly.

And then Eames looked at him, licking at his dry, plump lips.

"Wh... what?" Arthur asked, feeling a shiver roll down his spine. That weird, niggling feeling he'd been having since the heat had passed came forth with new strength.

"Um... yeah, right, uh..." Eames stammered, looking away. "I just... I need you to know that I didn't know any of this before. I had no idea about any of this stuff, and when I read it, I didn't believe it myself. When I met you, I didn't- I thought maybe I had been wrong, that maybe you were just a beta with omega tendencies. I've seen that before, but ah..."

"Eames, what's... is something _wrong_ with me?"

"Could be," Eames admitted. "Ah... let's uh... let's say... the idea of them being 'bitch males' wasn't just an expression?"

Arthur snorted. "Wasn't just a- well, then what exactly would it..." he trailed off as he started connecting the dots.

Eames gulped.

Arthur's eyebrows furrowed. "You're... you're fucking with me. That- that's impossible. I've taken a biology class you know- an anatomy class. I sat through the video in middle school. You really expect me to believe that-"

"I don't know," Eames interrupted. "That's just what it said, all right? The book's in the backseat. See for yourself."

Arthur leaned over, wincing a little at the way the seatbelt caught on his sore chest and grabbed what looked to be the tome (if how old and weathered it appeared was any indication), laying it open on his lap at the bookmarked page.

Out loud, Arthur read, "Omegas, before the lycan race acquired females through the use of turning, were the main source of the bearing of young. The births were so difficult on their bodies that many did not survive, and lycans turned to human women, turning them and having them bear their young. Omegas are now extremely rare and are a prize among packs because they bear purebreed..."

Arthur trailed off and looked up at Eames, suddenly as pale as him. "I'm... I'm gonna throw up-"

Eames slammed on the brakes and Arthur hung out the window, puking up the chili he'd had for lunch.

When it was over, he looked back at Eames, eyes wet, and he asked, "Are you trying to tell me that I'm—that _I_ am…"

"It... it explains my protectiveness of you," Eames offered pathetically.

"How? How does that explain anything?"

"I... I mated with you."

"What the fuck?" Arthur cried out, tears falling free. "Are you fucking kidding me? Please tell me this is fake! That's not how it's supposed to be!"

"I'm _sorry_!" Eames said. "I didn't know- I swear I didn't know, and don't panic because there's no guarantee that you're... I mean, you know—I mean, _we_ don't know yet, so ah—"

"What, so I'm supposed to go to a _doctor_? 'Hi, I'm Arthur, and I know I'm a boy, but you know I've been thinking this guy at my school knocked me up!' I'm sure that won't sound fucking _insane_ ," Arthur blubbered, and Eames started driving again since a line of cars had picked up behind him and started to blare their horns in agitation.

"There are werewolf doctors. They know about omegas, I'm sure they do," Eames told him, voice shaking as if he too was holding back on tears. "I can take you to one, and they can-"

"Can what? Get rid of it? You are aware that I'm a _boy_ right? I've already been bullied enough! Now they really will think I'm a freak!... A-and, that book- that book said I might _die_. _**DIE**_!"

"Look, would you just calm the fuck down?" Eames bellowed, and Arthur shrank back in his seat, sniffling quietly.

Eames sniffed, lowering his voice and staring out at the road. "We may have nothing to worry about, all right? I know this man, Yusuf, who can look at you. He's not a werewolf, but he studies them. He has no ties to any packs. He won't tell anyone... and we'll figure out where to go from there. All right?"

Arthur wiped at his eyes, slumping in his seat. He ran his hand over his stomach and felt like it was so much larger than it had been. "This can't be happening..." he whimpered, shutting his eyes, only opening them again when he felt a warm grasp on his hand.

He looked up at Eames, who was squeezing his hand, and Arthur realized that he was just as terrified… It was oddly comforting to discover. He didn't feel so alone.

Arthur swallowed thickly and looked out the window. "S... so, where is this Yusuf? Are we going there right now?"

"No," Eames said, and Arthur realized they were pulling back into the school parking lot. "We don't want people wondering where you went. Finish class and meet me here as soon as you're done, all right?"

"Okay..." Arthur said, crawling out of the car and starting slowly back up to the door on shaky legs. Eames drove off to find a parking space.

Arthur made it to class just in time.

* * *

Class was torture. During his last class he found himself staring at the clock, sick with worry, unable to take his hand off of his stomach. That tiny, tiny swell... When the teacher was writing notes on the board, he dug out his science book and started looking through the pages that covered pregnancy and was mortified to find a few familiar sounding symptoms. Fear wracked through him, and he could hardly breathe. He couldn't think of anything but what this possibly meant, and he kept hearing one sentence playing over and over in his mind.

_The births were so difficult on their bodies that many did not survive..._

It took all of Arthur's physical and mental strength not to hurl all over his shoes, sob, or rock back and forth in his desk. He felt like everyone was looking at him, like everyone _knew_. He couldn't bear to do anything but stare at the top of his desk and desperately count the minutes.

Finally, _finally_ the bell rang, and Arthur shuffled out of class, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Eames was there waiting, just like he'd said, and Arthur's eyes were instantly wet again with a strange combination of relief and fear. He held back on the tears and crawled nonchalantly into the car, and they were off to Yusuf's.

* * *

Arthur was silent most of the drive, staring at the floorboards, trying not to panic.

The clouds were thick and gray, and Arthur kind of just wished they'd burst open with loud thunder and streaks of lightning...

Yusuf's office was out in the middle of nowhere, even further away from civilization than Eames's ridiculously oversized house. Arthur had never been so far from home.

Yusuf himself was a bearded man in earth-toned clothes, and he really didn't look at all like a doctor. "Would you prefer I put on a white coat?" Yusuf asked when Arthur mentioned it.

"Just... look me over?" Arthur asked, frowning.

"Eames already informed me of your situation. Come, sit down, and I'll examine you."

Arthur was led down a long, carpeted hall to a cold room with a table and medical instruments. There were also different colored and weirdly shaped bottles lining the counters, making him feel like he was at some sort of wizard's tower or mad scientist's laboratory instead. "Lie down, please," Yusuf said, and disappeared for a long moment.

He returned with a machine Arthur did recognize, an ultrasound machine, and politely asked Arthur to move his shirt out of the way.

His stomach was coated in goo, and Arthur grimaced at the feel of it on his skin. "How old are you?" Yusuf asked, pressing the wand to the stomach.

"Sixteen," Arthur gulped. "That's really cold."

"Ah, so that must have been your first heat. Interesting, interesting… No worries, it'll just be a moment..." Yusuf said idly, staring at the screen. "Ah... there. There it is."

"There's what?" Arthur asked, rising up on his elbows.

"Right there, see that?" Yusuf circled it with his finger. "There's your pup, right there. My, that is fascinating."

Arthur felt like he was sinking into the table.

"I'd say you're about eight weeks along, more or less. That is just astounding. I never thought I'd witness such a thing."

"Oh, God..." Arthur moaned, falling back onto his back, eyes stinging. "So- so it's _true_... F-fuck- please- there's got to be a way to stop it."

"I think you've long since missed the boat on that one, mate. I'll get you on some prenatal vitamins and a steady diet plan, and... you all right?"

"NO!" Arthur sobbed, throwing his arms over his eyes.

This couldn't be happening.

"Mr. Arthur," Yusuf said gently. "This is miraculous. Tell me you know how miraculous this is. There hasn't been a sighting of an omega on this side of the pond in over fifty years. The fact that you exist is incredible enough, but this is extraordinary!"

"It's _horrible_!" Arthur cried out, trying to sit up but flopping back down when Yusuf went about cleaning Arthur off. "What the fuck am I going to tell my parents? How am I going to hide this from my classmates? _What if I_ _ **die**_? You don't seem to understand!"

"Arthur," Yusuf said again, pressing against his shoulder softly, "that book that Eames has been reading from is ancient. We've come much further in medical technology. You're not going to die. You'll be fine. I'll take care of you."

"That doesn't answer my other two questions," Arthur whined.

"Well, baggy clothes, I suppose- that will work for a bit of time anyway, but at some point you'll need to stop going to school. It'll be too much of a strain on your body to be on your feet that often."

"What am I gonna do?" Arthur asked, looking up at Yusuf hopelessly. "This can't get any worse..."

Yusuf helped him down off of the table. "Have you been having any problems?"

"I've been nauseous..." Arthur sighed. "Heartburn, weight gain... I'm tired a lot... and my chest hurts."

"All common problems," Yusuf said. "How's your diet?"

"Um... just... food, I guess. I've had spicy food cravings and sweet food cravings..."

"I'll get you set up on a proper diet plan and the vitamins... You're so young so I want you to have the best care possible. Can Eames drive you out here for checkups?"

"I... I don't know- I don't know- we... we're not exactly all that close..."

"Well, he's your mate, isn't he?"

"Well... I mean... I guess, but- he just... I was in heat, and he-"

Yusuf nodded, seeming to understand Arthur's garbled not-sentence somehow. "Shall I fetch him for you?"

Arthur looked down at his feet, and suddenly all he wanted was for Eames to be there. Eames was the only one who understood him even a little, and even though he was terrified of his reaction, he couldn't say no.

Yusuf left and returned a minute later with Eames, bustling him into the room. "I'll give you two a moment alone, hm?" Yusuf said and quietly shut the door behind him.

Arthur stared up at Eames, ashamed. "So, uh..." he said softly.

"You are," Eames said, and Arthur nodded.

Surprisingly, Eames slipped his arms around him and pulled him close, and Arthur just fell apart in his arms, sobbing. "It's okay," Eames told him. "I won't let anyone harm you. I will protect you."

"You don't have to do that," Arthur blubbered.

"It's mine too," Eames told Arthur, resting his hand against the nearly non-existent swell of his stomach. "I'll take care of you and it, I promise... Somehow, we'll manage."

All Arthur could do was cry.

* * *

When they left the office, the sky had opened up, and buckets of rain poured down upon them. Eames draped his jacket over Arthur's head and shuffled him off to the car, getting him settled in the seat.

Once they were puttering down the road, Eames leaning over the steering wheel to see through the rain (the windshield wipers were doing practically nothing), Eames asked, "Are you... okay?"

Arthur wanted to scream at him that of course he wasn't, but Eames didn't deserve that. "I... guess..." he said dismally. "I'm just kind of numb now..."

"Arthur, I... I'm so sorry... I... this is all my fault. I understand if you hate me, an' all that... If I'd found the information sooner, maybe we could have- fuck, if I'd _controlled_ myself, this wouldn't have-"

"Eames," Arthur interrupted. "It's fine... Well... it's not, but... we're both at fault here..."

"Are you scared?" Eames asked.

"Only a lot," Arthur said smiling self-deprecatingly. "What the fuck am I going to do? I can't hide this from my parents... They've already been suspicious of the change in scent, so I've been coating myself in body spray and really strong deodorant and shampoos. It's been giving me a headache."

"I've noticed. It's ridiculously bad," Eames chuckled. "The smell. It's so strong."

"I had to do something... but now I don't know _what_ to do... I can't hide _this_ for long," he gestured to his belly.

"You'll just have to tell them, I suppose... I'll be there with you if you need."

"No, no way. I'm not telling them. Not until I absolutely have to. I just... I need to think about what to say... I mean, yeah it's bad enough that I went against their wishes and sneaked out, but I… Well, I suppose it's sort of _their_ fault since they never told me any of this, but I probably wouldn't have believed them anyway… God, how am I going to tell them?"

Eames reached out and took his hand again. "Everything will turn out all right. I'm not going to leave you like this. You're my mate now... and I don't mean that in a 'friends' sense. It was all a big accident, I know, but if it had to be anyone... I'm glad it was you."

"Why?" Arthur found himself asking.

"Because... you're funny, and you're smart, and... you're the only person who knows me for who I am. The way I am at school, this big superstar- it's all a big game, you know? I can't let them know what I am... but you... you're like me. You're the only one outside of my family that I've met that's like me... and you are quite possibly the nicest guy I've ever met."

"I'm really not that nice..." Arthur sighed, but it did feel good to hear. "Thanks... Eames."

"No need to thank me, darling."

* * *

When Eames dropped Arthur off, Arthur moved to return Eames his jacket.

"Keep it," Eames said. "You need to stay dry."

"But..."

"Keep it," Eames repeated. "I'll keep looking up information on omegas, and I'll um... tomorrow's Saturday, so ah... would you like to meet up with me somewhere? We can... talk about what to do."

Arthur shuffled his feet. "I don't know... I mean, I'm not usually allowed to go out on weekends..."

"Here, let me see your phone," Eames said, and Arthur handed it over. A few moments later, he handed it back, his name and number filed into his contacts. "Ring me up. Anytime. Anytime at all. All right?"

"Okay..." Arthur said slowly. "Thanks. I... I will."

Eames waited for just a moment after Arthur crawled out of the car, just staring into his eyes. Arthur hunched under Eames's jacket and waved a weak goodbye, and then Eames disappeared into the storm.

Arthur slept that night underneath his blankets and Eames's jacket, hand laid across his abdomen.

* * *

The sun came pouring in across his eyelids, and he found himself awakening with a grunt and rolling onto his back. He stared up at his ceiling fan, wishing it had all just been some awful dream... but when he checked the drawer next to his bed, the vitamins and written down diet were still there, and so was the...

He took a deep breath and let it out and crawled out of bed. He padded to the bathroom, tugging off his t-shirt and just looking at himself in the mirror. "It's so weird..." he mumbled, poking at the slight distention of his stomach. "It doesn't even seem like anything right now..."

But he wasn't stupid enough to assume it was nothing. This was a big deal, possibly the biggest deal he'd ever been dealt in his entire life, and he was at a complete loss... But all he had to do was think of Eames's promise, and he felt better.

In fact, his words made him feel warm and tingly all over.

He sighed again and went back into his room, flopping back into bed. He figured a couple more hours of sleep couldn't hurt.

Arthur didn't call Eames. He wanted to, but he didn't. When they saw each other at school on Monday, Eames tried to bring it up, but the whole idea of it always seemed to come back to _I don't know what to do_.

Arthur would have liked to avoid Eames altogether, actually, no matter how warm and tingly he felt when Eames said nice things. He wanted to just bury himself in schoolwork and pretend all of this wasn't real, but the problem was that Eames hadn't let up on his patrol. In fact he'd increased it, keeping eyes like a hawk (or a wolf more appropriately)on him and no longer keeping his distance about it.

Arthur tried to change his routes to class, but Eames always found him.

This cat-and-mouse routine lasted about three weeks and then Eames caught him on the way to class, literally _caught_ him and dragged him into the boy's bathroom. He checked all of the stalls and then locked the bathroom door, and Arthur shrank into a corner, expecting to be yelled at.

"I know you've been avoiding me... and I don't know why..." Eames said softly, not looking at him. "If you want me to leave you alone, just say so..."

Arthur stayed silent, not sure how to respond.

"...but..." Eames said, looking at him, and his gray eyes seemed so _heartbroken_ that guilt slammed into Arthur. "Are you doing okay? How are you? Please, at least tell me that."

Arthur gradually peeled himself away from the wall, exhaling. "I'm sorry..." he mumbled. "I'm just... freaking out about all of this. I'm just..."

"Trying to pretend it's not happening?" Eames asked, closing the distance between them so Arthur tumbled back to the wall. "You really think you can keep doing that? Hiding your smell may keep your parents at bay for the moment, but you won't be able to keep this," he brushed his hand over Arthur's stomach, "hidden for too much longer. How much have you gained?"

"Five pounds..." Arthur said weakly. "I don't even know if- if that's good or bad, or... I don't know anything about it, Eames. I never thought I would need to."

"I know, pet, I know," Eames cooed, pulling Arthur close, and just being surrounded by Eames's scent made Arthur want to melt in relief. He didn't realize just how much he'd been missing it until then.

"I can't even really read about it because people will ask questions," Arthur said, muffled into Eames's shirt. "I'm not good under pressure... I'm not good at lying..."

"It's all right," Eames assured him, rubbing his back. "We can go talk to Yusuf, and he can tell you what to expect, all right?

"I just want this to not be happening," Arthur mumbled. "I just want this not to be real..."

"Well, look, I... I need to talk to you, all right? Will you allow me?"

Arthur nodded, and Eames pulled away from him, slouching to the floor. Arthur followed suit, letting Eames put an arm around him. "S...so, what's going on?"

"I've been reading up on it. On omegas, that is. Listen, ah... there's some talk going around. Omegas are even rarer than I thought they were."

"Y…yeah… Yusuf said that I was probably the only one stateside, but…"

"You're probably one of four alive. Worldwide."

Arthur's jaw slackened. "S-So?"

"Word is getting around that there's one in the area. Some of my pack have gotten whiff of your scent. They're going to start looking for you."

"Why? What do they want?"

"To claim you as their own."

" _Claim_ me?" Arthur asked, skeptical. "I think you already did that."

"Ah... yes, I sort of maybe did. However, from my readings, I've found that once omegas became a rarity, the ones that still existed were part of huge power plays between different packs. They would fight over where the omega belonged so that they could use it to breed purely or to claim their children."

"Well, that's wonderful," Arthur said sarcastically.

"You don't understand. There have been all-out _wars_ over this. Loads of bloodshed, death tolls in the thousands."

Arthur paled. "Why would they want an omega so bad? What's so different about purebreds?"

"Should they breed an alpha, it would be unbelievably powerful. A purely-bred alpha could lead all packs. Whoever owns that could own everyone else."

"Oh... Well, what if it's not an alpha?"

"Odds are likely that if it's not an alpha, it'll be an omega, and that means they can breed it. They can keep breeding until they get what they want."

Arthur squirmed a little, leaning closer to Eames's warmth. "So... this could be really bad... This is probably why my parents have been so overprotective."

"Your parents probably left their pack because there was even in-fighting about you. Packs have been dissolved over who has a right to what."

"So, do _I_ have a say in all this?"

"Unfortunately, when werewolves get angry, no one really gets too much of a say. There isn't a lot of talking going on."

Arthur pressed his knees together, chewing on his lip. "So... this is bad... What do we do?"

"I'll protect you from them," Eames said, curling his arms around him as if to prove it. "No one's going to hurt you if I can help it. I... I've been thinking about talking to my Uncle. He's getting up there in age, and I was thinking I should ask him to step down and let me take lead of the pack. Then, you can... if you wish... you can stay with me and be a part of my pack."

"I don't know..."

"You don't have to decide that right now," Eames said and kissed the top of his head. "I just wanted to tell you all of this so you'll know to keep your eyes peeled for suspicion. If you smell someone unfamiliar, don't hesitate to escape. I've been keeping watch of you... I'll keep my distance if you want, but I'll be around to stop anyone from hurting you."

"Please..." Arthur said, pressing his face into his neck. "Please don't go away... I... I'm sorry, I'm just scared, but... but I need you... I'm so scared..."

"It's going to be all right," Eames whispered, tugging Arthur into his lap.

And no matter what happened, when Eames said it and was holding him safely like that, Arthur believed it.

* * *

It wasn't two days later when Arthur first started to notice the distant new smells of other werewolves. They had yet to zero in on him (after all, he'd been trying to hide his scent), but they were getting closer.

He tried to just stay inside when he could, and Eames had started to insist that he drive him home every afternoon. He'd also taken to riding the bus in the mornings, despite the crowds and horrible smells. He just sat by himself in the back with his headphones on.

He switched to some of the baggy clothes he'd had in order to conceal any suspicion, but by the time he was about twelve weeks into this whole fiasco, he was starting to worry. There was a definite distention of his stomach now, one that would be noticed if someone felt him there or if his shirt got wet or most definitely if someone saw him without his shirt on. He'd gained about seven pounds total, and while a lot of the weight gain was just from the general malaise he was suffering from and the constant hiding out in his room from his parents, he knew that wasn't all of it.

At least his morning sickness had slackened off some. It had been getting difficult to hide his nausea from his teachers.

He found himself slumping down as he walked into the cafeteria for lunch that afternoon, having forgotten his brown bag of suggested foods from Yusuf's list. He didn't really like the school food, but he was starving, and he piled his tray high with spaghetti and three chocolate milks.

As he turned away from the line, he very nearly ran straight into his favorite teacher from last year, Mrs. Malorie Cobb. "Oh!" she cried, taking Arthur by the shoulder to prevent him from falling on his ass (he still hadn't quite adjusted to the slight but new weight on his frame). "Arthur! My, it's been some time hasn't it."

"H-hi," he said awkwardly, fumbling with his tray. "How are you?"

"I'm lovely, thank you," she said. "I was headed off to my classroom to eat. Would you like to join me?"

Arthur looked around at the crowded cafeteria tables, mostly students who lamented his existence, and immediately agreed.

* * *

Once they were alone in Mal's classroom, Arthur settled into a desk and started shoveling food into his mouth.

"You've got quite an appetite," Mal giggled, and he couldn't be offended by her. He just nodded, mouth full of food.

He swallowed and opened one of the chocolate milk cartons. "Yeah, I guess."

"You've put on a bit of weight. That's good. You've always been so thin."

Arthur kept his _you have no idea how much weight I'm going to gain_ to himself. "I guess so... Maybe like, five pounds or something," he shrugged. "Haven't been getting much exercise. Been too busy studying."

"You're a wonderful student, Arthur. I'm sure you don't have anything to worry about."

Arthur snorted before he could help himself.

"Is there something wrong?" Mal asked. "Are your grades slipping? Perhaps I can be of assistance."

Arthur's grades had slipped slightly, but nothing severely, and he suddenly found himself wanting to explain the situation to her. Mal had children, a little girl named Phillipa and a baby son named James with her architect husband Dominic, and Arthur would have loved to have some sort of advice on the matter... but he didn't want her to get the wrong idea, to realize he was a freak and to stop liking him.

"No," he said hoarsely, looking down into his plate and moving his spaghetti around on it with his fork. "Nothing's wrong."

"Are you sure? You can tell me anything."

"I'm fine," he croaked.

She nodded, clearly not believing him. He devoured his meal until the plate was empty without looking at her.

"Well, if you need anything, all you ever have to do is ask," she told him softly, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.

"Thanks, Mrs. Cobb," he said, offering her a watery smile. "I'm just going through some things right now. I'll be fine. Don't worry."

"Are you still being bullied?"

"No, nothing like that," Arthur said, standing. _A whole war might break out over my body. Oh, yeah, and there's the fact that-_

"Arthur," Mal said, standing as well and pulling him into a loose embrace. Arthur felt panic surge up his spine as his stomach pressed against hers, but she didn't really seem to notice it. "Take care of yourself, all right? I worry about you."

"You don't have to," Arthur told her. "I'm being taken care of-" He found his eyes inexplicably drawn to the classroom door just in time to see Eames pass by it, looking in the window. Eames must have smelled him, he thought. "Um... hey, weird question, but uh... didn't you have that student- Mr. Eames as a student?"

"Hm? Oh, why yes," she said. "Why?"

"Um..." Arthur said and found himself actually _blushing_. "Uh... so, uh, what did you think of him?"

She raised her eyebrows and studied him for a moment before saying, "He's very intelligent and very funny. I enjoyed having him in my class, even if he was a little bit disruptive from time to time."

"Oh, so um... so you like him?"

"I do... Why?" she asked, and a smile broke out on her face. "Do you?"

Arthur shrank a little, heat creeping further up his face. "I... I mean- that is uh... well, we're kind of- we're..." _Boyfriends? Lovers? Mates?_ "We're... I don't know exactly what we are, but..."

"Well, congratulations, Arthur," Mal said and kissed his cheek. There was no way she could know how fucking complicated all of this was, how misplaced her congratulatory praise was.

"Don't tell anyone, okay?" Arthur said. "I already get a lot of flak for being gay, and I don't want his friends to give him any trouble."

"I won't tell a soul," she assured him, and Arthur found himself looking passed her at the picture of James and Phillipa on her desk. Would he have pictures like that? Would he be able to love this thing growing inside of him and turning his life into a living personal hell?

He looked up at her and opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, then looked at his feet. "I should get this tray back to the cafeteria," he mumbled, hating himself for being so spineless. "I'll see you later, Mrs. Cobb."

"See you later, Arthur," she said and carded her hand through his hair before he left.

Arthur skipped his next class in favor of locking himself in an unoccupied bathroom and keeping his face pressed into his knees.

* * *

Arthur met Eames in the parking lot after school, exhausted from carrying around the weight of his thoughts.

"Are you all right?" Eames asked when Arthur crawled ungracefully into the passenger seat.

"Yeah," Arthur sighed. "Just a little stressed."

Eames drove for a bit, but then pulled off onto a shaded road, parking the car behind some trees.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked.

"I just... I wanted a moment alone with you," Eames admitted, as if he was embarrassed.

"Do you need to tell me something?" Arthur asked.

"No," Eames said, turning to look at him. "I just... I..."

Arthur's nostrils flared as he caught whiff of Eames's smell. It was almost like he could read his thoughts in the scent. "You missed me?"

"Sort of," Eames said, smiling sheepishly. "Your smell... I mean, you've been covering it up, and I miss it... I feel... weirdly lost without it."

"Eventually covering it up will be pointless," Arthur admitted with a sigh. His hand fell unconsciously to his stomach. "I haven't been avoiding you on purpose this time. I just ah... I didn't want your friends to get the wrong idea and start alienating you."

"My friends?" Eames snorted. "No one knows me that well, Arthur. I seem popular, but that's just a facade. I don't give a shite about any of them."

"Oh... well... I mean, reputation's important to most people... so I just thought..."

"As an alpha, I naturally draw people to me. I'm a natural leader. However, I don't care about them. They're not my pack, they're barely my friends. I _do_ care about you."

Arthur's heart skipped a beat momentarily. "Y-you don't mean that."

"Of course I do. You're my mate. You're-"

"But that's the only reason," Arthur interrupted. "If you hadn't accidentally mated with me, you wouldn't even remember my name."

"Arthur..." Eames said, and he actually looked _hurt_. It made Arthur feel guilty. "I'm sorry..."

"I... no..." Arthur said, looking down at his lap. "I'm sorry. I keep treating you like crap, and you've been so nice to me."

Eames unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over, embracing Arthur. "Darling," he said softly. "I know... I can't possibly understand how hard this is for you. You've got so much on your plate, and it's all my fault. There's really nothing I can say or do to make this better, but I can still try."

"Thank you... Eames..." Arthur said, voice suddenly wobbly with tears.

Eames loosened the embrace but only to lean in to kiss him gently. Arthur kissed back clumsily, still awkward, but instinct took over and Arthur just opened up for Eames, letting him lick his way into his mouth and taste him.

Arthur gasped against his mouth, moaning a little when Eames sucked on his tongue.

Eames pulled away only when both of them were breathless, but only long enough to get a breath before pressing gentle kisses down Arthur's neck. "I'd like to... if you'll allow me..."

"Out here?... Right now?" Arthur asked. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"How is it-" the clouds seemed to clear from Eames's vision as he remembered what they were dealing with. "Ah... oh... you're right. You're right."

Eames settled back into his seat, and Arthur looked from Eames's fly to his own, both of them uncomfortably tight. "Just... uh... we should go somewhere with a bed. You've never... on a bed- just uh... on the ground and in the library."

"Well, we can't go back to my flat. My family is there."

"You can sneak in to my room," Arthur offered. "I've... I've never had anybody in there before. My parents never let me invite anyone over."

Eames cleared his throat, blushing, and said, "They won't find us?"

"Eames," Arthur said, smirking, "You've kind of already knocked me up. What difference does it make?"

Eames snorted and shook his head, smiling. "You've got a point there."

Arthur thought Eames might have just had the greatest smile in the world.

* * *

Arthur went inside the house and searched for his mother and father. His father was still at work, and his mother was asleep in her room downstairs. He left her a note, claiming he was studying and didn't want to be disturbed and then made his way up the steps.

As he shut the door, he turned to find Eames climbing in the window, rather ungracefully.

"Shouldn't you be more poised than that?" Arthur asked, grinning.

"You try doing that with a hard prick."

He didn't give Arthur time to retort, crossing the room in a few quick strides and pressing him up against the door, kissing him. Arthur was very nearly lifted completely off the ground from it.

Eames kissed him until Arthur was clawing at his chest, begging for air, and then walked him across the room and to the bed, lapping at his neck.

"We have to- we have to be quiet-" Arthur croaked.

Eames hummed and kissed down Arthur's chest through the fabric of his shirt, working at the button of his trousers.

Arthur whimpered as Eames pulled the denim and cotton down, pressing a kiss to the head of his cock and then taking his time to remove his shoes and socks. He crawled on top of Arthur then and moved to pull his shirt off, and Arthur cried out, "Wait- wait... I..."

"What's wrong?" Eames asked.

"I... um..." Arthur said, flushing in embarrassment, unable to look directly at him. "It's just... I... look silly..."

A corner of Eames's mouth turned up, and he huffed as if Arthur was being ridiculous. He lifted Arthur's back off of the bed and pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the floor with the rest of his clothes and then smoothed his warm hand down his chest, pausing to cup the slight roundness of his belly. "Beautiful," he said.

Arthur bit down on his bottom lip, blushing for a different reason.

He'd never been called beautiful before.

Eames quickly stripped out of his own clothes, but still he took his time, kissing Arthur over every available inch of skin. "I'm going to make sure to relax you," Eames purred.

"Y-yes..." Arthur hissed, arching up into his touch a little. "Puh-please..."

Eames slipped his fingers down to Arthur's entrance, and even though Arthur lubricated himself, he worked him open until Arthur was mewling and moaning.

"Shush," Eames reminded teasingly, and he swallowed the rest of Arthur's sounds in a kiss as he pushed himself inside, slowly.

Eames fucked him slowly, lacking all of the roughness of the last times, and Arthur thought it was both weird and wonderful, sighing and whimpering, legs curled around Eames's back.

"Darling, darling," Eames panted against his neck, slipping his fingers into Arthur's mouth to suck on in order to help him stay quiet. His rhythm increased until it was frantic. Arthur had to grab hold of the headboard, mouth falling open in silent groans, and then Eames froze, growling low in his throat as he started to swell inside of him.

Arthur's eyes rolled back in his head, clenching down on Eames, and he came without his cock ever being stroked.

As soon as it was over, he slumped into the mattress, and the next thing he knew, he was asleep.

* * *

When Arthur awoke, it was to the feel of Eames pulling out of him. He whimpered, achy and sore, and Eames kissed the line of his jaw. "Just rest," Eames whispered, and Arthur heard him moving about the room for a moment before crawling back under the covers in his boxer shorts and socks. "You need your rest."

"M'hungry," Arthur grumbled into a pillow.

Eames chuckled, breath warm against the back of his neck, and his arms wrapped around Arthur's waist, hand falling over his stomach. "So..." he whispered. "When do you suppose it'll start moving?"

"Dunno..." Arthur mumbled sleepily. "Ask Yusuf... Need t'... need t' go see Yusuf again..."

"Mm," Eames agreed. "I should probably go before they find us."

Arthur rolled around so that he was facing Eames. "I wish you could stay."

"I'll come back again. Leave the window unlocked, all right?"

Arthur was asleep before he could watch Eames leave.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Werewolf!AU. Arthur is sixteen and completely oblivious when he first goes into heat, only saved from it by charismatic senior and other fellow werewolf Eames... and that's not even the most complicated part.

Part 3

The scent of the werewolves was growing stronger, Arthur noticed, but he really couldn't worry about that much now.

He was about fifteen weeks in now, and he was most definitely showing. It was already getting difficult to hide. He'd started taking to wearing a thick, oversized hooded sweatshirt at absolutely all times, but he was starting to fear that it was losing its effectiveness. He had a hell of a time avoiding his parents, trying to sit at tables that hid the stomach or keeping his back to them whenever they'd come into a room.

He knew he'd have to tell them soon. They were going to find out eventually.

The scent of nearby wolves didn't concern Arthur as much as keeping his secret did, but it certainly seemed to concern Eames. He prowled about, giving nasty looks to anyone suspicious, and he started taking the time to walk Arthur to his car in the afternoons and to pick him up in the mornings. He was obsessively protective, but Arthur was starting to get used to it.

As he was coming out of the bathroom, he was suddenly caught by the arm, and he very nearly panicked until he realized it was Ariadne, his current lab partner in Biology, and one of the few people who treated him like a human being. "Hey," she said, eyebrows furrowed. "I've been looking for you. Do you have your notes from class yesterday? I missed."

"Oh... um..." Arthur mumbled, dropping his backpack off of his shoulders, "Yeah- um..."

She looked around while he was digging for them and asked, "So, um... you and that Eames guy... are you a thing?"

Arthur glanced up at her, paused, and then looked back down to his bag. "Um... I don't know if that's the proper- that is... not... not exactly."

"Well, I was just wondering. I mean, he drives you everywhere, and he follows you around like a puppy dog these days. I don't care if you're gay, Arthur. I think it's sweet."

"It was sort of an accidental kind of... thing."

He held out the notes to her as he stood, and as she took a step forward to accept them, her foot caught on the strap of his backpack, sending her crashing towards him.

He caught her before she hit the floor, but unfortunately that also pressed her close against him, and he noticed the way her eyebrows shot up nearly immediately.

"Um..." she said, stepping back. "Sorry about that..."

Arthur just breathed in and out through his nose, wanting to back away or sink into the floor. "N-n-no problem, um, that's all of them, you can go-"

"Arthur, um... I-"

"I'll see you later," Arthur stammered, grabbing up his things, but she caught him by the arm again and dragged him back into the bathroom. "No- no, wait, please!"

"You've stashed something in your hoodie," she said. "I didn't know you were naughty. Let me see! I won't tell."

"No!" Arthur cried, but she quickly dug into the front pocket, finding nothing but his mp3 player and cell phone.

Her grin faded away, and she looked up at him then back down at the pocket, moving her hands instead to the tail of the shirt, pushing it and the t-shirt underneath up slowly. "Oh... that's kind of- I've never... What is this?"

"I have a medical condition," Arthur spluttered, and... well, it wasn't really a lie. "It's really embarrassing."

"Oh," she said, blushing. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I mean, it's cool. There's no need to be embarrassed. If it helps, I have a sweating problem. I have to buy clinical strength deodorant."

He tugged the shirts back down quickly. "Oh... r-really? I didn't notice." He had of course, but he had a strong nose. He was just changing the subject, and thankfully it worked. "I—I've got to go. I'll see you later. Yeah… later."

"O…kay," Ariadne said slowly and barely had time to blink before he bolted.

* * *

Arthur told Eames about his encounter with Ariadne on the way to Yusuf's that afternoon.

"It's not funny," Arthur said flatly as Eames laughed.

"A medical- a medical condition," Eames wheezed, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "You are bloody brilliant, Arthur. Bloody brilliant."

Arthur pouted. "I'm having a hell of a time hiding this from people and you think it's funny. I see how it is."

"Don't throw a hissy fit, I'm just teasing," Eames told him, reaching out and touching his knee. Then, he grew serious, "but ah... you know, you won't be able to hide it forever, no matter how big your clothes."

Arthur sighed. "I know. It sucks... I'm sure people are already talking."

"Mostly just about us. Everyone thinks we're sleeping together."

"We are," Arthur reminded, as if he needed to. Eames generally stayed over at least once a week, and his visits seemed to be increasing as Arthur's waistline was.

Eames chuckled. "Indeed. I haven't confirmed nor denied anything. I don't really know what you want me to say."

"What does it matter what I say?" Arthur said.

"Of course it matters! What you say, how you feel, it matters to me," Eames said. "We're in this together. Accidental or on purpose, we are."

Arthur smiled a little ruefully. "So, um... has anyone in your pack started talking about me? The uh- the omega?"

Eames hesitated before admitting, "Ah... yes. Um... They've been going on the hunt for you. I've been pretending to hunt too and sending them off your trail. No one questions an alpha."

"Why do you care if they know? I mean.. they're your family, right?"

"You think just because we're family we won't kill one another? Being family gives us more incentive actually, depending on our relationships. Still... I'm concerned about the approach of other packs. There's at least two other packs in the area. I've taken out a few from each. I don't know how big they are in numbers. I don't think they're anything to worry about, but I can't be completely sure."

"So, what happens if they find me?"

"Things get complicated."

"What do you mean by complicated?"

"I mean... lots of blood and dead bodies."

Arthur gulped. "Oh."

"Listen, ah... I know you don't want to, but you should probably... probably inform your parents about what's going on. We need to focus on getting you someplace safe."

"They'll be mad," Arthur said awkwardly.

"I'd rather they be mad than you ever be harmed."

"What if they kick me out? Disown me?"

"That'd be terribly stupid," Eames said. "You're valuable, and not just as an omega but as their darling child."

"I don't know... I guess I should talk to them... It's not like I can keep this a secret much longer."

Arthur sat in silence for most of the ride to Yusuf's, nervously going over in his head what to say to his parents, how to say it. Nothing he came up with sounded good enough.

* * *

At Yusuf's office, he was led back to the same room and asked to strip down and put on a gown. He gave Arthur the typical examination, checking protein levels, sugar levels, etc. and didn't see any problems. He weighed him as well. "You're a bit smaller than you should be," Yusuf said idly. Arthur was stunned by the declaration. He'd gained nearly ten pounds already.

"I thought I was too big," Arthur said shyly.

"Well, if this were a human pregnancy, yes. You might even be a little over if that were the case, but this isn't the same. Werewolves are generally a bit bigger and need more nutrients. They're tougher, you know? It'd be best if you gained about thirty pounds or so by the end of the nine months."

" _Thirty_?" Arthur asked, horrified.

"Possibly five to ten pounds more. Of course you'll need to keep eating off of that list of foods I recommended."

Arthur looked at Eames, shocked, and Eames just shrugged.

"Come, come, lay down on the table for me," Yusuf said, not seeming to notice or care about Arthur's terror at the idea, ever pleasant and focused on his own tasks.

Arthur crawled up onto the table and laid down, squirming until he was about as comfortable as he was going to get. Yusuf leaned over him, pressing against his abdomen, mumbling things like, "Ah, there we are." Arthur just stared at the ceiling, lips pressed into a thin line as he tried to not think about how awkward and weird this still was.

Eames had been bringing him here every two weeks or so, even though Yusuf claimed it was entirely unnecessary. Eames insisted every time and shelled out the cash for it too.

Arthur jumped a little when Yusuf slathered the disgusting, cold goo across his stomach, figuring he'd probably never get used to it, and watched as Yusuf breathed on the wand before pressing it to the skin. "Let's see," Yusuf said, and for the first time Arthur started paying attention rather than lamenting over his situation.

"H-hold up now," Arthur said, propping up on his elbows, "is the machine- does it always make that noise? What is that noise?"

"Oh, that?" Yusuf said with a smile, "that's the baby's heartbeat, of course."

"O...oh..." Arthur said, and he and Eames both stared at the screen in wonder, as if knowing that made everything feel... different.

"Looks like he's developing well... There's the head and here are his hands, his feet..."

"He?" Eames questioned. "You can already tell that?"

"Well, no," Yusuf said and reminded, "but there's no female chromosomes in purely bred werewolves. By around next month, his genitals should be forming." He went back to blabbering about where everything was, talking about how astounding and marvelous this still was, telling Arthur to eat more.

Arthur didn't hear any of it, and he suspected Eames didn't either.

All they heard was _He_.

...and now that _it_ was _he_...

Everything was _real_.

* * *

After the doctor's visit was over, Eames drove them to a local delivery place and got both of them Chinese takeout. Arthur ate most of it, mostly just so he didn't have to talk. Both were so rattled by this turn of events.

They were still sitting in the car, Eames driving, Arthur devouring lo mein, when Eames said, "So... 'he', huh?"

It didn't even sound like sentence, but Arthur knew what he meant. He swallowed and said, "Y...yeah."

Silence.

"So, um... have you thought about what to um... to call it—ah… him?"

Arthur stared at the dashboard for a long moment and instead said, "He... he has fingers... and toes."

"He does," Eames said, suddenly quiet, "and hair too. Did you see that?"

"I did," Arthur said, and he wasn't sure exactly what he was feeling then. "I saw..."

Silence fell again, and Arthur pushed his noodles around in the box.

"This is... pretty barking mad, yeah?" Eames asked, and he was _smiling_ , smiling like he'd seen something incredible...

...and maybe Yusuf was right.

Maybe this really was astounding.

* * *

Uneasiness suddenly coiled up Arthur's spine as they turned into his neighborhood, and at first he didn't realize why.

Then, Eames said, "I smell wolves."

Simultaneously, Arthur said, "I smell blood."

Eames slowed the car down, keeping vigil over all corners, looking for some sign, but soon decided, "The wolf smell is growing weaker. They've left."

"Where do you suppose they..." Arthur trailed off, coughing and gagging as the smell of blood grew alarmingly stronger, and Eames barked out a few coughs from it as well.

Both seemed to realize at the same time that the smell was coming from Arthur's house.

"Oh, God..." Arthur whispered.

"Stay close to me," Eames said gravely, crawling out of the car and letting Arthur out from the other side. He kept his arm curled around him as they approached the door, finding the fine finish had been scratched violently. The knob had been broken off, leaving the door part of the way open, and there were muddy prints on the porch.

"I can't breathe," Arthur gagged. "S'too strong- m'gonna puke..."

"Just hold on," Eames whispered, "and be quiet. The smells are overpowering here. There might still be wolves around."

"They found my house, Eames- they-" Arthur tentatively pushed the front door open, scared of what he'd find.

Pictures had been knocked down from the walls, furniture thrown about like paper. Wallpaper was ripped and dotted with blood, and the banister to the stairs was cracked in the middle. There were muddy footprints, some human-esque, some not, everywhere.

Arthur found his father on the entryway to the kitchen…

…ripped to shreds and barely recognizable...

Just from a quick glance upwards he could see his mother's body, or at least part of it, sprawled out on the kitchen table. He wasn't sure where the rest of it was.

He vomited, and Eames started dragging him away from the scene, and Arthur couldn't hear what he was saying through the ringing in his ears, only belatedly realizing that he himself was _screaming_ , hot tears pouring down his face and out of his nose, vomit still on the corner of his mouth.

His parents were dead.

His parents were _dead_.

...and it was because of _him_.

Eames got Arthur up against a wall and clamped a hand over his mouth, fiercely shushing him. "You need to- I know it's hard, but you need to calm down-" Eames tried to say.

Arthur shoved at him weakly, shaking his head, sobbing. "I can't, I _can't_!" he wailed, muffled by Eames's palm. "They're dead- they're- they ripped them apart, and it's beca- because'f-"

"This _isn't_ your fault, Arthur," Eames said severely.

Arthur shook his head. "Y'don'... un'erstan'... they... I can't, I... All they ever wan'ed was to protect me, an' I..."

Eames shushed him gently this time, pulling him into his arms and rocking him. "I know, I know," he told him, "but we need to get out of here. We- we'll call the police about this, but we need to get away from here before the wolves come back for you."

"I can't leave them..." Arthur sobbed pathetically.

Eames lifted him into his arms and carried him back to the car, laying him down in the backseat and pulling out his mobile phone to dial 911.

Arthur passed out before he could hear the call.

* * *

He held a funeral for his parents, curled up in the back corner of the funeral home, and didn't let anyone touch him but Eames.

The principal of the school sent him a letter with permission to miss school until he was ready to come back without legal issues, and from that point on, Arthur went back to his home and decided against going out again.

Eames never went home.

He got calls from his family, but he never answered them, staying close to Arthur, holding him while he laid in bed, leaving the house only to bring him food and to go to school (at Arthur's insistence). He started teaching himself to cook, and he also started setting up defensive perimeters around the house. He'd even put together a bunker for Arthur in the basement should they come after him, and as a safety precaution, Arthur was never allowed to answer the door.

It was more like a prison than it had ever been, but Arthur didn't care because he didn't want to go anywhere. He hated being downstairs, still able to see and smell the blood even though it was long gone. Eames even got a new door and redid the wallpaper, had a new banister put in, but Arthur could still see it, burned into his eyelids whenever he closed his eyes.

He didn't feel like he'd ever be happy again.

* * *

It had been four weeks since then, and Arthur was still miserable, doing nothing but eating and sleeping and going to the bathroom. Eames forced him to shower after a while, but Arthur had just stood there while Eames did all the work, and he couldn't understand how Eames did all this without complaint. He felt bad for the way Eames was clearly starting to wear down, but he just couldn't get up the wherewithal to get back on his feet. It didn't help that he'd put on another five to seven pounds, that his breasts had started to enlarge, and that his back was hurting. He was simply beginning to hate everything about himself.

...and then, on the fifth week, there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

He opened his eyes, waking from an afternoon nap to find Eames in the adjoined bathroom, shaving, humming softly to himself.

"Eames?" Arthur called out, his voice sounding strange to him from so much silence.

Eames wiped off the excess shaving cream with a towel. "What is it, darling?" he asked.

Arthur sat up, eyes wide, pupils blown. "C... come here."

Eames rushed to his side, concerned. "Arthur, what is it?"

Arthur just grabbed his hand and placed it on the swell of his stomach, staring at a spot on the wall as he focused.

"What... what is..." Eames whispered, eyes suddenly going wide as well.

"He's moving," Arthur whispered back, and for the first time in weeks, he smiled.

Eames took a shaky breath, a smile wrenching its way onto his own face as well. "I... I feel it... I feel it. S-so he is... would you look at that."

Arthur reached out and swept his hand through Eames's soft hair, and Eames looked up at him with tears in his eyes. "How are you holding up there, love?" he asked and ducked his head, making a sound between a laugh and a sob, as if he wasn't sure which sound to make.

"I'm okay," Arthur told him and settled his hand on top of Eames's, smile wobbling as tears pricked his own eyes. A little bit of the heaviness had lifted from his cloud, and he felt a tiny spark of happiness and held onto its warmth. "He's kind of active, isn't he?" Arthur said.

"He's got your spitfire attitude, I imagine," Eames said and then crawled up into the bed next to Arthur, letting Arthur lean against him. They both just stayed like that, hands laced across his stomach, and Arthur didn't dream of his parents for once.

* * *

Yusuf started making visits to Arthur's house, having heard the situation. Eames even paid him extra for gasoline for his truck, with which he carted around all of his machines.

"You're still not eating enough," Yusuf informed while Arthur was standing on the scale. "Doing better though. Have you been sticking to a healthy diet?"

"I slip up now and then," Arthur offered, still not completely back to life just yet. "I crave spicy foods and then sweet ones right after."

Yusuf nodded, going through the usual tests. In the meantime, Arthur glanced at himself in the mirror, marveling at the changes his body had already gone through. There was definitely no way he could hide himself at school or anywhere, not with the size of his stomach. Even his navel had popped out. He felt like a planet, and yet Yusuf proclaimed he needed to be bigger.

"No need to worry," Yusuf assured him as Arthur laid down on the bed, "You're at the halfway mark now. That's pretty exciting."

Arthur couldn't believe it had only been four and a half months (give or take). He certainly couldn't believe he had four and a half more to go.

"Ah, look at that," Yusuf said as he pressed the wand over his stomach. "He's quite a little mover these days, isn't he? Oh, and see, right there? He's developed his genitals like I said."

"Were we ever so small?" Eames said in wonder.

"You're still small," Arthur teased.

"Not funny," Eames chuckled and kissed Arthur's forehead.

"Looks like he's developing just fine," Yusuf assured them. "Eames is taking good care of you then, yeah?"

Arthur nodded and honestly admitted, "I don't know what I'd do without him."

"Well, be careful, you two," Yusuf said, rolling up the wires. "It's December now. Stay warm, all right?"

Arthur offered him a small smile, and Eames promised that nothing would befall Arthur if he had anything to say about it.

For some reason, that left Arthur feeling anxious, but he didn't say anything about it.

* * *

Arthur didn't really find himself getting over his parents' death, but he found himself surprisingly thankful for the baby as an opportunity to focus on something else.

Yusuf's worries about Arthur's low weight would likely be diminished by his next visit because Arthur found himself becoming ravenously hungry, taking seconds and even thirds. Of course, he was up and moving around a bit more than he had been when he'd been depressed, provided he could sit after a time since his back hurt and his ankles swelled.

Eames couldn't seem to get enough of Arthur, breathing in his hair, kissing all over his neck before going to sleep at night. The circumstances were devastating, yes, but Eames appeared to like being able to always share a bed with Arthur, resting his hand over his stomach.

"I look like a swallowed a beach ball," Arthur marveled one morning three weeks later as he was stripping down to take a shower.

Eames was just getting out of the shower, taking his time since Christmas Break had started at school. "It's just a small beach ball," Eames assured him, wrapping his arms around him.

Arthur turned around in his arms and met him in a kiss. They licked and nipped at each other for a couple of minutes, and then Eames pulled him into the shower and bathed him, kissing at each of Arthur's tiny stretch marks. "You're so beautiful," Eames told him.

"You're insane," Arthur replied, blushing as Eames scrubbed at his sensitive chest.

"I am not," Eames replied, smiling as he reached for the shampoo and rubbing it into Arthur's hair. "I am helpful and great."

"And so humble too," Arthur said and fell silent while Eames chuckled.

After rinsing the shampoo and conditioner out of his hair, Arthur asked, "So, um... what are your plans for the holidays? They're like... next week."

"Well, I figured you and I would spend it together. I think I've got the cooking thing just about down. We can have a fancy dinner."

Arthur hummed in approval as he tended to do whenever food was involved these days... and then sadly added, "My parents were going to take me on our first vacation this year... They never let me go anywhere, but they were going to take me to the beach."

"Would you like for me to take you to the beach?" Eames asked, the sound of heartbreak evident in his voice.

"Wouldn't want anyone mistaking me for a whale," Arthur replied and let Eames help him out of the tub and start drying him off. "Eames, I... all of this you've done... thanks. I know you didn't have to stay here or anything, and I'm sure your family is worried about you... Maybe you should go see them and show them you're all right?"

"I don't know..." Eames mumbled. "They're probably about half crazy from their hunt now."

"You really think they're that rabid?" Arthur asked skeptically.

"I know they are," Eames replied. "I know you don't notice it, but your scent has gotten progressively stronger, and now the little one's getting a scent of his own as well. Masking it is doing nothing for you now, darling."

"So... that's bad?"

"Could be," Eames said, helping Arthur into his boxer shorts and sweat pants (since he certainly couldn't wear his skinny jeans anymore). "No need to worry. I shall be your defending knight."

Arthur's heart clenched with anxiety again, but he waved it off. "Well, defending knight, can you go and rescue me some lunch from the Whataburger?"

"But of course," Eames said, smiling fondly as Arthur shimmied his way into his shirt. "Anything in particular you want?"

"All of it. Any of it, surprise me," Arthur said, then added, "And hot sauce. Get a bottle of hot sauce."

"Your heartburn wouldn't be so bad if you weren't practically drinking the stuff."

"It's _good_ ," Arthur whined, and Eames kissed his forehead.

"I'll be back soon. Stay safe."

* * *

After Eames had left, Arthur settled in on the couch with his textbooks. Just because he wasn't in school didn't mean he wanted to fall behind. He'd only been studying about ten minutes, however, when there was a knock at the front door.

Arthur froze, staring at the door as if it was going to come bursting open at any moment with slobbering beasts.

Another knock.

Arthur waited.

"Arthur? Are you in there?"

Ariadne's voice.

He approached slowly and pressed his hands against the wood but didn't open the door. "What do you want?" he asked.

"I... you are there," Ariadne said, relieved. "No one's seen or heard from you since... since um... since what happened, and I... I wanted to see if you were... well, I mean, I know you're not _okay_ , but... I brought some cookies. My mom made them. They're shaped like snowmen. Can I come inside?"

"I... I don't know," Arthur said.

"Please? I'm... I've been worried about you. Lab sucked without you in it. Mrs. Grotsky paired me up with that sneezy kid, Mitchell."

"I just... I don't think that you should-"

His nostrils flared at the approach of strong, unfamiliar, _wolf_ scent, approaching quickly, possibly in a car.

"I have all the homework assignments that you've missed. I mean, I know you didn't come back to school before break, but I thought maybe if you kept tabs on it, you wouldn't have any trouble when you were ready to come back, and I mean... it might be good to get your mind off of things for a little bit, you know?"

The scent was maddeningly close, like they were in the neighborhood, and Arthur kept seeing how they'd ripped apart his parents, how they _could_ rip apart Ariadne.

He opened the door and dragged her inside, shoving her towards the basement. "We need to hide right now," he told her shakily. "Go down there. Go!"

"What's going on?" she asked as she stumbled her way down the steps in the dark, Arthur slamming the door shut behind him. He listened momentarily and then texted Eames about the smell before starting down the steps behind her. "What the hell, Arthur?" she complained, rummaging blindly for a light switch. "Are you gonna hold me hostage like that guy from Silence of the Lambs?"

"They... they're coming for me... the ones who killed my parents..."

"You shouldn't be so paranoid-"

"I'm _not_ , I can smell them," Arthur growled nervously.

"Smell them?" she questioned. "You do realize how insane you sound right now, don't you?"

"Look, I- I didn't want to tell y- I didn't want anyone to know, but I can't let you-"

"What are you talking abou- fuck!" Ariadne tripped over a table in the darkness.

"I'm not human. I'm not normal like everyone else."

"So, what exactly are you then?" she asked, grunting as she moved to get up.

"I'm uh..." Arthur hesitated and then reached over to help her up, sight better than hers. "I'm a werewolf. An omega."

Ariadne snorted. "Hilarious. I probably broke my mom's best cookie plate, and you're telling me you're fucking Lupin from Harry Potter."

"I'm not kidding, Ariadne. It's true," Arthur told her, voice shaking. "I didn't even know until, what, like... five months ago? Something like that? It's not what you think. I mean, I don't scratch my ear with my foot or transform and howl at the full moon- I've never even transformed at all, but uh- but I can go into heat and I have heightened senses and-"

Ariadne found the light, tugging on the chain and flooding the room with it. Arthur wanted to hide under her bug-eyed gaze but instead held it for what felt like hours though probably was only several minutes.

"Okay... I'm listening..." she said, but both of them fell silent when there was the sound of doors slamming and stomping up above.

An entirely too tortuously long five seconds later, Eames's voice called from the other side of the shut basement door, "Arthur?"

"It's Eames," Arthur sighed in relief. "I'm down here. I'm safe."

"Open the door," Eames said, and Arthur, with some effort, climbed the steps and unlocked all of the locks. He was immediately embraced by Eames. "They didn't see you? You didn't open the door for them?"

"Who is 'they', Eames? What happened?"

"My cousins, and my brother," Eames said, descending the steps with Arthur and coming to a complete halt when he saw Ariadne still standing pidgeon-toed in the corner. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see Arthur- what the hell is happening here? Am I dreaming?"

"Why did you bring her down here?" Eames asked, looking mildly horrified and angry.

"I had to," Arthur stammered. "Th-they were coming, and I-I could smell them, and I didn't want them to hurt her-"

"Do you realize what could have happened to you if you'd been seen by them? Do you realize that?" Eames shouted.

" _Of course I fucking realize it! I still see it in my nightmares!_ " Arthur shouted, tears welling up in his eyes as the still fresh wound of his parents' death was reopened. "I didn't want it to happen to her too... I couldn't let someone else die because of me..."

Arthur wilted, and Eames pulled him into his arm, expression wracked with guilt. "Oh, Arthur," he said softly.

"Um... not to interrupt this tender moment or whatever... but could someone please explain to me why Arthur's hiding from your family? Or why he's- like _that_?" Ariadne asked and gestured vaguely at Arthur's body.

Eames sat down, Arthur curled up in his lap, and explained. Arthur dozed through a good portion of it, adrenaline winding down.

She stared for a long time before saying, "So... he's... he's a boy, but he's having a baby. How does that- You know what? I don't want to know. Um... congratulations? I guess?"

"So," Arthur said scratchily. "Your brother- your cousins-"

"Ah, yes, that," Eames nodded. "They were actually following my scent and then caught a whiff of yours. I sent them on their way, but ah... they're not happy with me... they don't trust me any longer. I don't know if this will be a good place to stay. Odds are... odds are that they'll be back."

"Where am I supposed to go?" Arthur asked, hopeless. "This is the only place we have..."

"I have a guest house," Ariadne piped up, and they seemed to remember she was still sitting there.

"Eh?" Eames asked.

"A... a guest house?" Ariadne said. "Y-yeah, my dad's got a really nice place, and he's got a guest house out back. He's almost always away on business, so he lets me use the main house whenever I want, and... I can sneak you to the guest house."

Eames looked at Arthur and Arthur looked back up at him.

"I like your friend, darling," Eames said.

"I'm Ariadne. We do attend school together, you know."

* * *

Going to Ariadne's guest house wasn't as easily said as done.

Eames was reluctant to move Arthur at all, considering once his scent hit the wind, it could very easily be picked up, and on top of that, Arthur wasn't exactly inconspicuous with his rounded stomach. Ariadne's place was on the north side of town, and while Eames had a car, there was still the possibility of being detained.

They didn't move until Christmas Eve, assuming it'd be safer since most people were spending time with their families and were thus not out on the roads.

It had started to snow, so Eames had to drive slowly, and Arthur stayed slumped low in the backseat while Ariadne had taken up residence in the passenger seat, giving out directions while Christmas music lilted softly over the radio.

Arthur sighed, running his hand over his stomach, singing along quietly with the radio, to no one but himself and the child, " _Chestnuts roasting on an open fire... Jack Frost nipping at your nose... Yuletide carols being sung by a choir and folks dressed up like eskimos..._ "

Arthur didn't have a coat that fit him, but Eames had bundled him up in several shirts and blankets to make sure that he didn't shiver even a little. With the heater on full blast, Arthur was actually doing his best not to sweat like a pig and thus make his scent stronger.

A tiny foot nudged against Arthur's hand as he sang, almost like incentive to continue. Arthur couldn't help the little smile that crept onto his face.

"So, it'll just be us there, and no one else?" Eames asked Ariadne for probably the millionth time.

" _Yes_ ," she stressed. "I spend Christmas with my mom, and my dad tends to spend it with his co-workers. He's not supposed to be back from Paris for at least a couple of months, so you should be safe there until then."

"Unless they find us," Eames said, still not seeming to like this. "Maybe we should just move out of state."

"Even with the money my parents left me, we don't have enough," Arthur told Eames. "That's why I want you to keep going to school. Even if I'm stuck at home, you can at least get your high school diploma, start going to college."

"I can go to school anywhere," Eames said. "I know how to forge signatures."

"School systems still expect to see your parents, Eames," Arthur reminded, "and besides, there are probably packs all over. There's not really any way to hide from them forever."

"Your scent would lower a bit after he's born."

"Doesn't mean that his will. They're still not going to stop looking."

"Well, _fuck_ , Arthur, what do you want me to do?" Eames complained.

"I'm not trying to upset you," Arthur said right back. "I'm just trying to make a point. As soon as I'm able to, we'll probably have to do some fighting."

"And who's going to take care of him?" Eames asked. "What if they kill us both?"

"Well, if we don't fight them, they probably still will."

Eames growled.

"Uh... whoa, negative vibes here," Ariadne mumbled. "So, um, let's change the subject until I'm not an awkward third wheel in your argument. Uh, so what're you going to name him? Have you decided?"

"No," they both said in exasperation.

"Oh... well, uh... I mean, it's a boy, so... I mean, I've always liked the name Oliver."

Eames huffed. "We are not naming him _Oliver_."

"Why not?" Ariadne asked.

"Because it's a sissy name!"

"It is not! It's sweet!" Ariadne replied.

"Maybe for a baby, but he'll grow up and everyone will think he's a bloody pussy."

"No, they won't!" Ariadne said.

"You might as well just name him bloody 'Clarence' or some shite like that!" Eames replied.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "What do you want your name to be?" he mumbled quietly. "Are you a Joshua? Luke? What about Judah? Then we could call you Jude."

He smiled when he was met with a little kick of approval, unnoticed by the two hens squawking so loudly in the front seat that he couldn't hear the radio anymore.

"Jude, hm?" Arthur said and started quietly singing, " _Hey Juuude, don't make it baaaad... Take a sad sooong and make it beeetter... Remember to let her into your heeaart... then you can staaart to make it beetterrr..._ "

The arguing quieted down and suddenly both of them were looking over their shoulders at Arthur.

Arthur blinked, pointed to his stomach and said, "He likes Jude."

"How do you know that?" Ariadne asked.

"I just... do," Arthur replied simply. "He told me... sort of."

Eames cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed from his behavior and said, "Well... well then, if that's what he likes..."

Arthur shrugged.

"You know, for an alpha male, you're awfully submissive," Ariadne teased.

"I take back what I said about liking you," Eames grumbled. "I don't like it when people talk about my authority. I'll show you my teeth and claws if I have to."

"Children," Arthur scolded, and the rest of the drive was spent with them passive-aggressively arguing with one another rather than directly.

* * *

Silliness aside, Arthur didn't miss that Eames had started to argue with him before settling with arguing with Ariadne. In fact, there had been a little bit of trouble in paradise over the course of that week. Arthur didn't know if it was just them being cooped up together and spending too much time together or what, but they were both getting frustrated with each other more and more often.

Arthur sat quietly on the guest house's couch, halfway watching "It's A Wonderful Life" while Eames clunked and clanged around in the kitchen as if the pots and pans had done him some sort of personal offense, wishing he could get rid of the uncomfortable anxiety that had been welling up in him almost constantly.

His phone buzzed with a text message from Ariadne, probably mass-texted, "Merry X-mas!"

He couldn't help but think _not sure what's so merry about it_ , but decided not to be the cynical asshole to text that back.

"I'm sorry," Eames said with a sigh as he returned to the tiny living room. "I can't make the fancy dinner I promised. There are only sandwich materials and ramen noodles."

"It's fine," Arthur said, still staring at the television. "I'll eat whatever."

Eames nodded with a tight smile and went back into the kitchen.

Arthur ran his hand up and down his stomach. "Hopefully things are smoothed over, hm?"

He received a small kick in response.

* * *

Week 27 arrived.

Eames had had to return to school, which frankly Arthur was happy for because it seemed they couldn't go an hour without getting upset with each other about _something_. At least in Arthur's house they were able to have a little distance when agitated, but Ariadne's guest house was tiny, and Arthur had done nothing but get bigger (he'd put on a total of twenty-four pounds since the beginning of this whole thing). There was literally no way to get away from each other, and the intensity in the air made both of their hairs stand on end.

Yusuf was three hours late to his examination, mostly because he had a hard time finding the house, and Eames still wasn't there when he arrived so Arthur had to let him in.

"How are you doing?" Yusuf asked after squeezing himself and his machines inside.

Arthur shrugged. "I'm gigantic, my feet have gotten bigger too, my back hurts, my ankles hurt, _and_ I'm being attacked from the inside, but at least _he's_ nice about it."

"Honeymoon phase is over, is it?" Yusuf asked, unpacking his supplies.

"There never was a honeymoon. We're not even married," Arthur replied, tugging off his shirt. "That little line has shown up on my stomach- showed up a couple of weeks ago."

"The linea nigra," Yusuf confirmed.

Arthur sat and let Yusuf perform his usual routine, staring up at the ceiling. "I think Eames is getting tired of me," he said numbly.

"Nonsense, you're his mate."

"Yeah, well, people 'mate' all the time. It's called marriage, dating, living together... and there's a reason so many relationships fail. Maybe we aren't... maybe we never _were_ right for each other. I mean, we didn't even know each other when we..."

"Mating isn't the same thing as those human rituals," Yusuf said. "It's not just a word, Arthur, or a ritual. You two are literally bonded- body, mind, and soul. Eames can feel what you feel, perhaps not with the same intensity, but he can. Since he's the alpha, it's a mechanism in his system that allows him to know when you're in trouble."

Arthur looked at the ultrasound screen, biting down on his bottom lip as he realized that perhaps Eames's agitation was brought forth from Arthur's unwarranted (well, maybe not _completely_ unwarranted) anxiety. It didn't make him feel better. In fact, it made him feel worse.

"Your weight gain is going nicely now," Yusuf said. "Keep doing what you're doing, all right?"

Arthur nodded, sitting up and letting Yusuf wipe up the gooey mess on his belly.

"Now," Yusuf said, wiping off his hands as well. "I'm no relationship expert by any means, but I have faith that you two will be all right. Don't worry so much."

Arthur thought that was much more easily said than done.

* * *

By the end of the next week, Arthur was in absolute _misery_.

The child had shifted, which Yusuf had explained was completely normal, and now was resting on Arthur's sciatic nerve (Yusuf had said this was also completely normal), but pain seemed to shoot down his legs from his ass whenever he'd move a certain way, and sometimes he just plain couldn't feel them at all. He was forced to lie about in bed whenever he could manage (which was most of the time), but the lack of something to do or anyone to talk to was starting to drive him up the wall.

So... maybe he was being a little unjustifiably snippy with Eames.

"FUCK!" Eames shouted. "The bloody moment I walk in the door you start bitching at me! What the fuck do you want me to do?"

"I'm not bitching!" Arthur shouted right back, though admittedly he sort of was. "I just asked you where the fuck you've been all day? School was out like... three hours ago! Are you just out joyriding or what?"

"No, I'm not out _joyriding_ ," Eames growled. "Who the fuck do you think I am?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Arthur screamed. "I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE! I DON'T KNOW SHIT ABOUT YOU, YOU KNOW?"

From that point there was more screaming, though Arthur couldn't remember what it was about, the slamming of doors, and the sound of silence for pretty much the rest of the evening.

Arthur slept alone.

Well, clearly his method for getting somebody to talk to was failing spectacularly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Werewolf!AU. Arthur is sixteen and completely oblivious when he first goes into heat, only saved from it by charismatic senior and other fellow werewolf Eames... and that's not even the most complicated part.

Part 4

Around four a.m., Arthur got up, grunting with the effort, and opened the bedroom door, peeking out at Eames's figure sprawled out on the couch, looking quite uncomfortable.

Arthur swallowed and moved to shut the door, guilt smacking him in the face when Eames's voice said, "So, you're still awake too."

"Yeah..." Arthur said so softly he himself barely heard it. "You can... you can come back in here with me... if you want..."

Eames sighed and sat up, but he didn't make a move towards the bedroom, not yet. "Arthur, do you know where I was today?"

"No. You didn't tell me."

"I was..." he sighed. "I was at my house. I went home to my pack. I... I had the intention of telling them about all of this, smoothing everything over, trying to get us accepted into it together without the fighting and violence... but they smelled you on me, and they already know, and now I'm enemy number one for keeping it secret."

Arthur shifted awkwardly on his feet.

"My entire family is out for blood now, yours and mine. I had to roll myself in dirt and dive into an ice-cold river just to throw them off of my trail, and I ended up leaving my car there too. I _ran_ here, and though it's not much of an effort for an alpha, I felt perhaps you should know that... and the moment I get home, tired, freezing, wet, hungry... you start screaming at me. How do you think that makes me feel?"

"I'm sorry..." Arthur said, voice wobbly. "I didn't... I just..."

Eames sighed in exasperation, standing. "Don't _cry_ , jeez."

Arthur wasn't sure what the point of saying that was other than to make him feel even worse, since he already had tears getting stuck to his eyelashes. "I'm sorry..." he said again, uselessly, and pressed his forehead to Eames's shoulder when he approached.

"It's all right," Eames exhaled. "Let's just to bed, yeah?"

Arthur sniffed and stepped as far aside as he could to let Eames through. "I don't... mean to make you feel awful," Arthur said softly. "I didn't know that you could feel my emotions."

"It depends," Eames mumbled, flopping down onto the bed, "how close I am to you, physically, and how strong the emotion. It also doesn't mean I'm incapable of feeling my own feelings. Get into bed. It's chilly in here and you need to stay warm."

Arthur crawled under the covers, curling up close to Eames and, as a peace offering, said, "You can fuck me if you want to..."

"Perhaps tomorrow," Eames mumbled, kissing Arthur's forehead. Both of them went to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, when Arthur was pretty much kicked and beaten awake from the inside, Eames had already left.

He got up, stretched, and took a shower. He blowdried his hair, brushed his teeth, shaved, and then fixed himself breakfast. Afterwards, he studied for two hours, and then started surfing the internet for information on breathing exercises and such. It wasn't as if he could go to a class like everyone else, so he had to teach it to himself, all on his own.

...and while he was sitting there, practicing and feeling like an idiot, Arthur couldn't help but remember that this time a year ago he'd never thought his life would ever be anything like this. He never expected to be squatting in a sort-of friend's dad's guest house with his sort-of-not-really-don't-know-what-to-call-us boyfriend, and ballooned up to the size of a medium-sized planet.

He hated it.

He hated living this way, in fear of what was going to happen tomorrow. He hated not knowing how long it would take before he was found or _if_ Eames would come to save him once they were separated enough for him to realize how annoying Arthur was. He sort of wanted Eames to stop liking him completely and leave him.

He wasn't completely sure why.

Arthur spent a lot of his time talking to Jude (he was calling him that whether Eames liked the name or not; he'd already decided). Jude couldn't exactly respond back with words by any means, but Arthur had really started to think that they could understand each other. Arthur could just sort of read the difference between a positive nudge or kick and a negative. It was very weird but... oddly cool.

After he finished his exercises, he looked around online for forums of teenage parents, or teenagers who'd lost their parents, but honestly he couldn't look for too long before he started to feel overwhelmingly depressed and shut the computer down.

He studied some more, watched TV.

He napped mostly, at least when he could. Snacked.

He texted Ariadne. _How's school going?_

It took ten minutes before she replied. _Boring as hell. How r u?_

Arthur responded: _Gigantic_

Ariadne: _poor thing_

Arthur sighed and texted _I'm really lonely_ but decided not to send it. He erased it and typed instead _Have you seen Eames? How is he doing?_

_He looks really tired_

Arthur sighed again and decided to go back to sleep.

When Arthur woke up, it was to the feel of a dip in the bed. He didn't move, didn't open his eyes, waiting to see what kind of mood Eames was in.

A moment later, a hand curled around his stomach and a soft kiss was placed to the back of his neck. Arthur turned towards him and the kiss traveled up the side of his jaw to his mouth.

"How are you feeling?" Eames asked when he broke away, eyes stormy gray.

_Lonely. Insane. Worried._

"I'm okay," Arthur said scratchily. "You?"

Eames half-hummed-half-growled into Arthur's neck and then nibbled at the skin. "I missed you."

_No, you didn't._

"Maybe I can make it worth your effort?" Arthur asked.

"Maybe," Eames said. "Let's find out, shall we? If you want to, that is."

"I do," Arthur said, offering a slightly wobbly smile.

Eames tugged his shirt over his head, and Arthur took a long moment to appreciate his lean, attractive frame, remembering when he too was once lithe-limbed. As Eames pulled Arthur's shorts down, tugged off his socks, and stripped of the rest of his own clothes, Arthur suddenly felt terribly insecure.

Arthur didn't stop Eames from tugging off the shirt, but once he had he averted his gaze, flushing in embarrassment.

"Oh... why so coy, darling?" Eames asked, mouthing at his neck.

"Don't even pretend you haven't seen how massive I am," Arthur mumbled, tilting his head to give Eames more access. "It's like having sex with a big, ugly, fat guy."

"It is not," Eames said, lapping and nipping along Arthur's collarbone and then taking one of his nipples into his mouth.

" _Ah_!" Arthur gasped, not realizing just how sensitive he was there, entire body tensing up, and then he moaned relaxing under the pressure of Eames's tongue.

"Ah, you like that, do you?" Eames asked and reached up to tweak the other.

Arthur whimpered, squirming. "Y-yeah... I... I like... I like that, _ohh_..."

Eames released his hold on him and put his mouth to Arthur's instead, tasting surprisingly sweet. "Want to save some for the little one, hmm?" Eames said, and Arthur licked at his own lips, realizing he was tasting his own produced milk.

"I don't think he's quite ready to come out of the oven just yet."

"Still don't want you to run dry," Eames said and kissed down his stomach. "Roll over for me, love, would you?"

Arthur did, grunting at the shift in gravity. "This is harder than it used to be." It was also absolute murder on his back, but he just wanted things to be fine with Eames, so he decided to endure. It wasn't so bad.

Enduring, however, was more difficult than he expected. As Eames rolled his hips, sliding in and out, Arthur's entire body started to ache, and he was starting to cry out in pain rather than pleasure, even when Eames took hold of his cock and started to stroke him.

He knew Eames was trying to make him feel good, and it did, but soon enough the aches he received from his too-heavy body overwhelmed any feelings of pleasure, and Arthur just wanted it to be over.

Finally, it was.

Eames pulled out before he could knot with Arthur and tugged on himself a few times until he splattered come across his back. Arthur came too, though it wasn't terribly enjoyable.

He slumped to the side, gasping at the air, barely aware when Eames left the bed until he returned, wiping Arthur clean with a wet washcloth. Jude was kicking angrily at Arthur for the struggle.

"Thank you, darling," Eames chimed, rubbing gentle circles against Arthur's shoulders. "Are you hungry?"

"Mm-hmm," Arthur said, stroking at his stomach in an effort to calm the child down. He was already achy enough.

"Anything you have a craving for?" Eames asked.

"Something warm..." Arthur mumbled, curling up.

There was hesitation and then, "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," Arthur whimpered. Eames hadn't hurt him, but it _had_ hurt, and he hated that the one thing he could do for Eames was now so difficult.

Arthur waited, felt Eames's hand brush against his arm, and then the weight lifted off the bed and Eames was gone. A few minutes later, Arthur could hear him clanging around in the kitchen.

Well, _that_ went awfully.

* * *

By week 31, breathing was getting more difficult. Whenever Arthur waddled from room to room, he'd wind up winded and had to sit down. Being weighed down by his own body made keeping out of Eames's hair much more difficult, and it seemed that both of them were growing progressively more agitated at one another.

It was still cold, but the snow had long since melted, and there was a terrible storm booming outside. Arthur was stuck, curled up on the couch in front of the weather channel, waiting for Eames to get home. Since he'd lost his car in his escape from his parents, he'd been taking buses and taxis around town. He had also had to dodge out of school more days than he got to go because his family was hot on his heels, as well as, apparently, other wolves.

It was only a matter of time before he got caught.

The door opened, and in stumbled Eames from the storm.

Arthur cried out as the smell of blood overwhelmed him and watched Eames collapsed to the floor, dead-

Arthur gasped, blinking awake at the sound of a slamming door.

"Eames?" he said shakily, pushing himself up from where he'd fallen asleep on the couch.

Eames was drenched, and his coat had been ripped. There was an unpleasant line of gashes across his left arm. "I'm okay, I'm all right," he assured immediately as he shrugged out of the tattered coat.

"What happened?"

"Little skirmish, nothing to worry about," Eames said, dropping the soiled coat to the floor and hissing from the wounds.

Arthur rocked himself to his feet and batted Eames on the nose when he attempted to try and lick at the wound. "You won't reach it, you know," Arthur scolded. "Sit down."

"You shouldn't be on your feet. I can handle it," Eames offered.

Arthur had already made his way into the bathroom, gathering up the first aid kit. He settled next to Eames, eyebrows knitted together, and pressed a cloth to the wound.

Eames growled, instinctively jerking the arm away.

"Stop it," Arthur said, yanking the arm back and continuing to clean the wound. "You'll make it worse."

"It didn't hurt so much until you started doing that!" Eames complained.

Arthur huffed through his nose but didn't respond otherwise, knowing Eames was just aggravated because he was in pain.

Arthur popped open the case, a first aid box that Eames himself had prepared, and removed a sterilized needle and threaded it, sewing the wounds shut with slow, precise effort. A bead of sweat formed on his brow and rolled down to his jaw, and he chewed on his lip, focused on not damaging him any more than he already was. Even Jude had gone still, as if he knew Arthur needed the moment.

When he was finished, he wiped away the blood and circled his arm in bandages. He then slumped back into his seat, exhaling. "What the hell happened?"

"I had a run in with my uncle. They're getting more ruthless."

Arthur wiped at his nose, unable to get the smell of blood out of his nostrils. "You tried to fight him?"

"No. He clipped me when I was trying to escape. Not that I couldn't have fought him with the proper incentive, but he wasn't alone and I'd rather avoid a bloodbath."

"You should've been more careful."

"You think I'm not being _careful_?" Eames countered, jaw set. "I've been doing everything I possibly _can_ while trying to keep up the image of a completely normal life. You think that's bloody _easy_?"

"I didn't say it was-" Arthur tried to counter, but Eames interrupted.

"We don't all have it as fucking easy as you do, you know, sitting around here watching the tele all day!"

" _Excuse me_?" Arthur shrieked, jumping to his feet, and Eames leaned back from the force of Arthur's shout. "You think I've been _enjoying_ this? I'm aching all the time- I can barely get through doors! I get winded every time I move around! I'm constantly dealing with beatings inside while you are constantly berating me on the outside! I spend all day here all by myself and I can't even go _outside_ and I'm starting to go insane, and you think this has been a fucking _vacation_? I didn't ask for this, you know! **Fuck you**!"

Vertigo hit Arthur so suddenly that he stumbled and nearly fell, and he had to sit down, eyes shut, and take a few deep breaths. He thought for a moment that Eames made a move to reach out to him but changed his mind.

Arthur slept alone again.

* * *

For the next several weeks, it seemed that they had the same argument every few days. One of them would cave and apologize and there'd be kissing and making up, but then it would start in again all too soon, growing gradually more biting and hateful until there were far too many things said that shouldn't have been.

They were currently giving each other the silent treatment at week 36.

Arthur was more miserable than ever. Not only was he thirty-eight pounds heavier than he had been before all of this happened, feeling stretched to the limit and ready to burst, he was also three days without sleep, unable to relax or breathe well with the weight on him. The room was too hot, and it was as if Jude knew something was wrong, kicking at Arthur as if trying to give him the message. Though, he wasn't really kicking so much now as he was squirming, but it was still painful. Arthur had a feeling the boy would inherit his sharp elbows.

Yusuf arrived on schedule, looking bewildered. "I've seen at least seven wolves on the way in," he said.

"We may have to move again before the birth," Eames said, dismal. He never sounded happy anymore.

"Let's see how things are, shall we?" Yusuf said, and from the tenseness in his shoulders, Arthur could tell that the heavy air hadn't been missed by the doctor.

They went through the motions, Eames meandering aimlessly through the too-small prison they were living in, and Arthur just wished Yusuf would offer to take him with him. At least Yusuf was pleasant...

...not that Arthur wasn't to blame for a lot of this. He knew the only reason Eames was even still there was because of Jude. That had to be it... but then... Eames had barely talked about him. Did Eames even care?

"You're almost there," Yusuf announced. "I'd say within two weeks, you'll have a brand new baby."

Arthur was a little relieved for a moment at the idea of finally being free of the thermal heater attached to his front and making all of his clothes look ridiculous, but then the anxiety returned, and it was stronger than it ever had been.

"I... I don't know. I don't think so. He- he'll stay in there longer," Arthur assured him.

"I doubt that," Yusuf said. "You'll be lucky if he doesn't decide to make his move in the next few days."

So, the wolves were closing in, and Arthur was at his absolute most vulnerable.

Fuck.

As if reading his thoughts, Eames returned to the living room, and said softly, "I can fight them off."

Arthur just stared at him, lip quivering with unspoken words.

"I have a safe house you can come to for the birth," Yusuf said. "I'll have it cleaned up in three days."

"Thank you," Eames said. "I'll bring him."

Yusuf nodded and left before the air got too thick to breathe out of.

* * *

There was a long time where neither of them said anything.

Arthur sipped at a glass of milk, staring at his laptop screen but not really reading it. He could smell the werewolves in the area, distant but there.

Eames could smell them too, nostrils flaring every few minutes as he continued to pace around the house.

"They won't get to you, you know," he said after a long, long moment.

Arthur didn't respond.

"I won't let them. I'll fight them off."

"Mm," Arthur replied noncommittally.

"You don't believe me," Eames stated flatly.

"I didn't say that."

"You think because I've been evading them that I'm a coward?" Eames growled. "You don't think I can fight them, do you? I'm a fucking alpha! I can fight them if I bloody need to!"

"Fine! Then do it! Fight them! Start a fucking war! See if I care!" Arthur shouted.

Apparently, they were fighting again.

Arthur wished the fighting would stop.

"I'm fighting them for _you_ , you twat!" Eames yelled. "The least you could do is be fucking grateful! _Once_ in a while!"

"I DON'T WANT YOU TO FIGHT THEM!" Arthur screamed, getting to his feet, and tears pricked at his eyes.

"THEN WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU WANT? WHY THE FUCK NOT?"

" _BECAUSE I DON'T WANT YOU TO DIE AND BE FORCED TO LIVE WITHOUT YOU_!"

Silence.

There it was.

The reason why Arthur had been so anxious.

They'd killed his parents, and they were two wolves. Eames was just one.

"I d-don't want them to kill you," Arthur blubbered, tears sliding down his cheeks. "I don't want you to die because of me... I can't... I can't deal with it again... I can't, I _can't_ … I know you hate me, and I've been nothing but awful to you, b-but… I can't stand the thought of losing you, not now or ever, and I don't want to be the reason… I can't take it…"

Eames seemed frozen from shock.

"You should've left me from the beginning… You shouldn't have put yourself in so much danger for someone like me…" Arthur whimpered, turning away from him and opening the door. "I can't let you die for me... I can't..."

"I won't..." Eames whispered hoarsely.

"No... you won't," Arthur said, and he left.

He summoned all of his strength reserves to run and did so, body screaming in pain, and he wasn't sure where he was going. He just knew he needed to get away from Eames before they came for them both and he watched him die. He couldn't, he _couldn't_...

He ran for a good half hour before his strength gave out, slumping against a street lamp, sweating against the warm spring air. Now that he was away from the argument, away from the fear and anxiety and from the smell of other werewolves, his head cleared and he cursed himself for being so stupid.

What the fuck was he doing?

He'd been so upset that he wasn't thinking. He hadn't been thinking of himself or anything really, but he now realized he was out in the air, and while it felt good to breathe fresh air, he was immediately aware of how out-in-public he was (in a neighborhood with no one around, but still). He was immediately aware of the danger he'd put Judah in by selfishly running out.

He didn't think this could get any worse, turning back to try and seek out his path so that he could go home even though he was positively unbearably _aching_.

It couldn't get worse. It couldn't.

And then he felt a pop and a gush and found a puddle pooling at his feet.

Well, fuck.

Arthur stood there, frozen, embarrassed at his wet pants, wincing at the ache in his stomach that was slowly fading.

This couldn't be happening.

He swallowed thickly, looking around uselessly for a sign of someone, anyone who could help him, but he was all alone.

...and then he smelled someone.

Eames?

He definitely smelled Eames. Eames was coming for him. Eames was coming.

...but there was another smell. That smell and the matching hand on his shoulder, reached him first.

* * *

Eames chased down Arthur's scent, panic settling in at the smell of nearby wolves practically _everywhere_. Arthur's scent nearly got lost in all of it, but Eames could feel Arthur, could feel that he was in pain.

He found himself in a neighborhood, and he knew Arthur had been there not long ago. His scent was all over, and...

That...

He sniffed at the light post, smelling Arthur but also something distinctly separate from Arthur, something similar but not the same.

He recognized it.

His son. Their son.

...and then...

"Oh, God," Eames whispered, turning towards the wind.

* * *

Arthur struggled against the grip of his captor, but when the shooting pain in his abdomen hit again, he lost all his strength.

"You're awfully tiny," the man said as he dragged Arthur through the woods. Arthur noticed a distinct English accent. "It's a little disconcerting. Here I expected something more beautiful and mysterious. You're just a scrawny little runt."

"P-please," Arthur stammered, pain hitting him again, and the time between the fading in and out seemed to be shortening. "Please, just... please- you can do whatever you want to me, but please don't hurt him- please don't hurt my son-"

"Hm," the man said, immediately dropping Arthur.

Arthur sprawled on his back, howling in pain, scrambling.

"My nephew really doesn't know how to pick them. I really expected an omega to be more impressive... I guess your smell and your arse makes up for the rest of you."

"Please don't hurt him..." Arthur whimpered.

"Hurt him? Oh, please, of course not," the man said, and the pain cleared enough from his eyes for Arthur to see him.

He bared similarity to Eames, but only distantly. His hair was graying at the temples, and his lips were thinner and framed by thick facial hair, but his eyes were the same steely gray. He was bulky-framed, pure muscle, hairy, with big hands and dressed in a pale colored shirt tucked into belted jeans. His teeth were pointed, and his scent was overwhelmingly strong.

"Please don't..." Arthur stammered again. "You can do whatever you want to me... just please don't... don't hurt him... don't hurt my son..."

"I've already told you that I don't intend to hurt him," Eames's uncle said lightly. "He's useful."

Arthur stilled from his struggle against the man's hand that had been planted firmly to his chest. "Wh-what?"

"You've been mated. You're absolutely useless. You won't breed with anyone else. My idiot nephew could have tied with you without mating, but he's not smart enough to realize what he's doing."

"Don't talk about him like that," Arthur croaked and then cried out as another shooting pain hit him.

"No matter," the uncle said. "He bred you, and that's what we're after, so just hold still and it'll all be over in a minute or two."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, panic rolling through him.

_Arthur, where are you? Fuck!_

Eames?

_Fucking wind... fuck... fuck... this is all my fault._

It was Eames.

It was Eames, and he sounded distressed.

Arthur could hear him but...

_Fuck, why didn't I immediately go after- why couldn't I have just stopped being such an arse-_

He couldn't see him anywhere...

_I call myself a fucking alpha? Fuck, I've been nothing but a coward... but I don't- I don't want to die either. I don't want Arthur to have to do all this on his own... If I die, he won't be able to fight them off, and I... I can't stand the thought of losing him and..._

Arthur realized that he was hearing Eames's thoughts.

Yusuf was right.

_God... where are you?... Fuck, I never should have... Please be okay, please be okay... I love you._

They really were more connected than he realized.

Arthur tried to hear more, but suddenly his entire body jerked, and for a long second all he saw was red and all he heard was the ringing in his ears, and when he came back to his senses he was _screaming_.

He was _screaming_ and in the most unbearable pain he'd ever been in.

Hopelessly he tried to move, but he couldn't. He watched as Eames's uncle, no longer a man but a wide-shouldered _beast_ clawed into Arthur's stomach and womb, ripping him wide open.

For a long second, all Arthur heard was his own heart beat in his ears, voice dying as he screamed it completely away, tears mixing in the dirt with the rapidly pooling blood.

...and then he heard him cry.

Eames's uncle returned to human form though he was still spattered with Arthur's blood, and by the left ankle he lifted the screaming child into the air.

"Let... let him go... leave'm... alone..." Arthur rasped through blood-filled gasps for air. "...please..."

The man stood and looked down at Arthur, emotionless, and then he walked away.

Arthur realized he was being left to die, just like his parents.

* * *

Eames had fallen to the ground, spasming over the sudden onslaught of phantom pain, clawing at tree bark as he tried to stand and howling and rolling about, trying to get it to stop, and then it faded.

He could still feel the pain at the back of his mind, but he was distracted from it by his own senses... by the distant fading echo of a scream... and the absolutely overwhelming smell of Arthur's blood.

Eames scrambled to his feet and ran faster than he had ever run, twigs and branches tugging and ripping at his clothes. He ran and ran until the smell was so strong that he was sick with it, and then he slowed to a stumble, and...

" _Arthur!_ " Eames cried out, voice cracking as he fell to his side.

Arthur was curled up with his arms wrapped around his stomach, skin and clothes all stained red, and there was a pool of blood around him, turning the dirt into bloody mud and sticking to him.

"Oh, God..." Eames choked, grabbing Arthur under the arms to pull him away from the smell. He didn't want to believe it was Arthur's blood.

"Eames..." Arthur rasped, wincing and whimpering as Eames tumbled onto his ass, Arthur sprawled ungracefully across his lap.

"You're alive... you're alive," Eames said shakily, barely believing it.

Arthur opened his eyes, his gaze distant and glassed-over. "He... he took'm... y'gotta... save'm..."

"Darling..." Eames panted, tears hot and stinging in his eyes. One slipped free and Arthur lifted a shaking, bloody hand to swipe it away. Eames could see the carnage that had been committed on his mate then, and suddenly he wasn't so sad...

He was _angry_...

No.

 _ **He was enraged**_.

He didn't think he'd ever been so maddened by rage in his entire life. He couldn't breathe; couldn't think.

"Come on, love, easy does it," Eames said in a carefully controlled voice, lifting Arthur into his arms. He stared at the puddles and streaks of blood on the ground, and it just angered him further. "We're going to get you some place nice and safe and get you taken care of, all right?"

"I d'care b'me..." Arthur garbled, eyes rolling back in his head. "Save'm... E'scared... n'hungry..."

"I will- I- I'll bring him back to you, but you've got to be alive to see him," Eames said, voice starting to tremble.

"Heard'm... cry..."

"You have to stay _alive_ , Arthur, do you hear me?"

"Love you... too..."

Eames ran.

* * *

By the time Eames arrived at Yusuf's clinic is was nearly dark.

He kicked at the door mercilessly and howled and shouted for him to open up. Arthur never moved, unconscious in his arms, breathing shallowly. His skin had gone gray, making the redness of the blood seem even brighter.

Yusuf finally answered the door after several unbearable seconds. "What's the-" he fell silent immediately and stepped aside to allow Eames in, staring in absolute horror. Eames knew it must have been as bad as he feared, because Yusuf was never really fazed by anything.

"What... happened...?" Yusuf asked as Eames sprawled him out on the table.

"My uncle got to him, and he took our son, and I have to go get him, and _you_ have to save Arthur," Eames explained quickly, wiping his hands on his shirt.

"You think I can bloody save him?" Yusuf asked.

"You'd better," Eames growled, sounding remarkably less man and more beast.

Yusuf shrank away. "I'll... I'll do everything I can... but there are no guarantees."

"I'll be back," Eames said, stopped, amended. "I'll be back with my son."

"Good luck," Yusuf squeaked, and Eames left.

* * *

By nightfall, Eames arrived at his house, staring at it lit up in all its glory. There was a celebration going on.

Eames had every intention of crashing the party.

He ripped the iron-barred gates open with no effort, punched the fountain so that it crumbled as he passed, leaped onto the hood of a car and dented it nearly to the ground, and kicked the door so hard that it burst off the hinges and fell apart.

The next few minutes was a blur as he hunted through the house, searching for his pack until finally, in the dining room, he found them. The whole room was dripping with the smell of wolves as they passed meat and wine around to one another, laughing and carrying on as if no evil had been carried out. Eames saw his mother near his uncle's side, pouring him a glass of blood red wine, his brother on his other side and sucking up as always.

"Well, looks like there's a birthday party going on," Eames said loudly, and the entire room fell silent and looked at him. "Bloody awful that I wasn't invited considering it's my son."

"Eames," his mother said, shocked. They'd all been so distracted by their merriment to smell his approach. He didn't care.

"I'd say it's best if you hand him over right now, and I won't be forced to kill you all."

The betas in the room shifted uncomfortably, but his uncle, sitting at the head of the table, didn't flinch. "Eames," he greeted, mockingly congratulatory. "So good of you to join us. You're just in time."

"Hand over my son, Uncle."

"You dare speak to the head of the pack like that?" Eames's brother cried but yelped and fell silent when Eames glared at him.

"Well, considering it's rightfully my position, I think I'm entitled," Eames said darkly and turned his gaze back to his Uncle. "Give me my son and I'll make your death as painless as possible."

"I'm not afraid of you. You've had plenty of opportunities to kill me and you couldn't get up the nerve. You're an alpha, but only in blood. Face it, Eames. You're nothing but a coward."

"You're wrong about that… I was never a coward. I just never had anything to fight for. I'm a good-natured bloke," Eames replied, jumping onto the table and walking towards him, shoulders widening, eyes shining gold, "but you've just woken up my bad side."

"Now I'm shaking in my boots," his uncle said flatly.

Eames moved so quickly that his uncle didn't realize he'd been clawed across the chest until a moment later, touching at the bloody wounds in stunned silence.

Eames stood back on his haunches, transforming, and he howled.

All of the betas scrambled away from the table.

Eames's uncle stood and joined Eames on the table with the crashing of dishes, transformed as well.

All Eames saw was Arthur's wet eyes.

"You really mean to kill me?" his uncle barked. "You don't have the bollocks."

"You have no idea what I'm capable of if I set my mind to it," Eames replied, and he pounced.

* * *

The battle didn't last long.

Eames's uncle was more bark than bite, but even if he hadn't been, nothing could have stopped Eames's rampage. The only reason the man was even still alive for the fight to start with was because Eames wanted everyone to be clear on how much he meant business, wanted his taking of the proverbial throne to be done fairly and thus not ripped out from under him in some loophole (after all, the wolves still had human sides and had learned how to use that part of them as well)...

…and of course, he wanted to make the bastard suffer.

Some of the others jumped in to protect their leader when Eames quickly gained the upper hand, but none of them lasted long. He tore them apart with ease, anger and determination fueling him. He no longer cared who they were. Every one of them was his enemy…

_"Heard'm... cry..."_

This wasn't just about mates and packs and alphas and omegas anymore.

_"Love you... too..."_

This was Eames's _family_. His _real_ family.

"Please… don't—" Eames's uncle begged, blood pooling in his mouth as Eames hovered over him, ready to lay down his final crushing blow.

"Is that what Arthur said?" Eames asked him coldly. "Did you listen to him?"

"Eames—be reasonable—"

"I am," he replied, and finished him off.

Eames stepped away from the fight, and he returned to his human form. "I'm your leader now," he announced. "First order of business- this pack is disbanded."

"You can't do that!" Eames's brother cried, holding to his wounds.

"I can," Eames replied, wiping his hands on a dinner napkin a bit uselessly. "I refuse to rule you bastards who would dare to take my son from me and try to kill my mate. You are traitors to me."

"H-he did all that... We didn't have the power to stop him..." Eames's mother offered.

"That is the reason I've let you live," Eames replied, jumping off of the table. "You have all hunted us with intent. You can now go join with another pack, and I shall let you go off as you wish with no repercussions under the one condition that you never. Ever. _Ever_. bother or attempt to harm my family again. Are we clear?"

"F-family? Eames, _we're_ your-"

"Are. We. Clear?" Eames asked, claws going sharp.

"C...clear..."

They all stepped down under his authority and within minutes had cleared out of the house.

With them gone, Eames easily sniffed out Jude, the only lingering smell, finding him upstairs in a basket, crying.

Eames was momentarily taken by him... His head of dark hair and teeny body, his familiarly plump lips and slightly oversized ears...

He was beautiful.

"Oh..." Eames whispered, hoisting him into his arms as he wrapped him in the basket's blanket, and his screaming quieted a little down into tiny mewls. "Hello, there, love. Hello..."

The baby sniffed and whimpered and cried, the sound so tiny and innocent and so brand new.

"Let's get you out of this scary place," Eames said, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and left behind the house with no regret.

* * *

When Eames returned to Yusuf's clinic, Arthur was still being worked on.

He settled the little child into a chair and stripped off his bloody clothes. He cleaned himself over the sink in Yusuf's exam room until he no longer smelled blood on himself and then changed into a pair of scrubs. They were a little too small, revealing his ankles and feeling tight across his chest, but he didn't really care.

He gathered the baby into his arms again, holding him close, sat down, and waited.

* * *

It took probably the whole night. Eames wasn't sure. He'd dozed in the chair.

He awoke to the feel of his teeny son suckling on his finger, using it for comfort. Yusuf was just walking through the door, removing his mask.

"How is he?" Eames asked.

"The surgical staff I called in has got him closed up," Yusuf said. "His organs weren't terribly damaged, but his blood loss was substantial. We've got him hooked up to more blood, so it's looking hopeful, but it's touch and go for right now."

Eames nodded, looking down at the child.

"So... I'm assuming everything is over now?" Yusuf asked.

"In the fighting sense, yes..." Eames said quietly.

"So, your life with your family is over," Yusuf said.

"Oh, no..." Eames said, looking up, a small smile on his face. "It's only begun."

* * *

Yusuf let Eames stay in Arthur's room, and for the next four days, he didn't leave. The baby wouldn't eat, no matter how much Eames tried to feed him the formula and constantly struggled towards Arthur's sleeping form.

They ended up setting up his little crib next to Arthur's bed because at least then he would sleep.

Eames was sinking in worry and fear, having not slept or eaten since before all of this had happened. He worried that Arthur would pass, and he worried that his son would too since he absolutely refused to eat, even when forced.

He paced the room until Yusuf made him sit down, proclaiming he would create ruts in his tile.

Eames slumped into a chair, staring out the window, hating himself and everything he'd ever done that brought them to this point... He couldn't stand listening to his son scream for food, refusing anything but the milk that he wanted. It was just so loud... and it hurt his heart so bad and...

The room had fallen silent?

No... no, it wasn't-

The baby had stopped crying... and...

" _Hey Jude... don't make it bad... take a sad song and make it better..._ "

Eames turned, eyes wide, as he listened to the hoarse, barely-whispered singing that had calmed the child down.

Arthur had reached out, hand pressing gently against Judah's cheek, stroking it with a fingertip. His eyes were half open, and he was still pale, but some of his color had returned, and he was still singing. " _Remember to let her into your heart... then you can start... to make it... better..._ "

Eames's eyes filled with tears.

" _Hey Jude_ ," Arthur sang, a little bit more strongly as Judah start suckling on his fingertip. " _Don't be afraid... you were made to go out and get her... The minute you let her under your skin... then you begin to make it better..._ "

He looked up at Eames, weak-eyed but smiling and said, "I can't remember the rest right now."

"Arthur," Eames whispered, sniffing as a tear slipped out of the corner of his eye. Arthur reached up and swiped at it gently.

"Can I hold him?"

"I don't know if you should," Eames said, but Arthur huffed.

"Let me hold him. I'm okay. I'm a werewolf, more resilient than humans."

Eames used the buttons on Arthur's bed to set it to a more reclined position and helped adjust him, obsessively checking to make sure none of his stitches had ripped. Arthur kept assuring him that he was fine, clearly anxious to get the boy into his arms.

Finally, he got what he wanted.

Arthur gasped a little as Eames gently lowered him into his arms. "Almost a week old already, huh. Time flies and all that," Eames said, and his voice wobbled with emotion that he just couldn't seem to control anymore.

"He's so beautiful," Arthur whispered, astounded at the sight before him. "He looks like you."

"I thought he looked more like you, but well... he does have my mouth."

Arthur smiled, cheeks dimpling, and Eames watched as the baby smiled too, giggly, and two little dimples appeared on each of his cheeks as well. Eames wasn't sure why that made tears fall from his eyes, but he laughed a little as he wiped them away.

"You're probably starving to death," Arthur said. "Poor thing."

It was astounding how easily he latched on to Arthur, drinking his fill. Eames had always heard babies were supposed to be difficult about that, but, well...

It didn't matter.

"Oh, see? This? This is nice," Arthur said, leaning his head back as the child ate. "I can sleep while you do this. That is good, good news. I like that."

"Arthur, I- everything I've done-" Eames started but Arthur waved him off.

"We've both made some mistakes. I'm stupid, you're stupid... but don't worry about it. We're teenagers. We're supposed to be stupid."

"I don't think we're teenagers anymore," Eames said.

"No... no, I suppose we _were_ is more correct, but... seriously, forget about all that. This... what's happening now? Me, you, and him? This is all that matters."

"I love you," Eames said.

"I love you too," Arthur said, offering a sleepy smile before drifting off.

* * *

Arthur and Eames and Judah moved back into Arthur's house. No wolves dared to threaten them now.

For quite a few weeks Arthur was bedridden from the surgery but he was as resilient as he said and before long was back on his feet like nothing had ever happened.

Eames marveled at his bounce-back ability but not nearly as much as he marveled over how incredibly good he was at taking care of his son. He'd read that omegas were naturally good with pups, but he still felt like Arthur was special. He was fussy as a hen, never letting Judah go outside without the proper clothing ("He'll catch a cold!" or "We don't want him to get wet, Eames, jeez!" he said), and he would only by the top shelf foods and other supplies ("You get what you pay for" he said). He'd take extra care when bathing him and putting him to bed and would even go an entire night without sleep if he needed to, just to rock him gently or sing to him when the child was difficult.

Yes, Arthur was a sight, but even moreso was Judah who was quite possibly the cutest, sweetest, absolutely most wonderful-est of wonderful things that Eames had ever witnessed (and okay, maybe he was a little biased). Sometimes he would be sitting on the floor (he was already sitting up!) and just look up at Eames who was sipping coffee, and he'd just _smile_ , and when he'd just _smile_ Eames would just _melt_. Arthur seemed to notice this weakness about Eames and had thus taken to the time that Eames was at school to teach Judah entirely too cute things.

Arthur had taught him to rub noses when he said 'eskimo kisses', and when they did, and both of them smiled and giggled like it was the most wonderful thing ever, it took all of Eames's strength not to liquefy into his shoes.

Eames graduated at the end of spring with a full-ride scholarship in theatre (somehow), and Arthur was hot on his heels, having completed. his school work from home. He was nearly done with his own high school classes by the end of summer even while taking care of the little one all by himself (since Eames had to work to provide for Arthur's expensive tastes and didn't mind a second of doing it either).

Ariadne came by a week before school started back.

"I'm kind of late on all of this, but my mom insisted we go on vacation," she said, holding out a gift basket to Eames when he answered the door. It was full of toys and other baby things. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Eames said with surprise as she shoved her way inside and made a beeline for the little one who seemed to be attempting to pounce on his stuffed rabbit.

"Oh, my God, he's so cute!" she squealed, and Judah gave her a very Arthur-like look of surprise as she picked him up (Eames was pretty sure he had Arthur's eyebrows). "What did you guys name him?"

"Judah," Eames said. "Jude for short. Just like Arthur said."

"He's precious. How old is he now?"

"Almost four months."

"Wow," Ariadne said, bouncing him a little in her arms, and he squealed with delight. "He's such a big boy now," she babytalked at him, and normally Eames would tease, but it was kind of hard not to talk like that to him. He'd caught himself doing it so many times by now that he'd begun to wonder if he'd get stuck talking that way forever. "Aren't you such a big boy? Such a pretty boy!"

Arthur entered then with his nose in a textbook, notebook stashed under one arm, "Eames, what did you want for dinner to- oh. Oh, hi," Arthur said, realizing they had company.

"Hey," Ariadne greeted, nearly drowned out by the way Judah squealed and reached out for Arthur.

Arthur set his book and notes down on the table and took him into his own arms, giggling when he rubbed noses completely of his own decision.

Ariadne almost melted too, Eames saw it.

"I wanted to congratulate you guys," Ariadne said. "You said in your email it got kind of complicated?"

"Was it ever simple?" Arthur offered, and he was just beaming like the proudest man in the world. Eames wondered if Ariadne was having trouble connecting him to the shy, awkward, hunched boy of her past.

"Good point," she said. "How are you guys doing on your own?"

"We're getting by," Arthur said, settling Judah into his high chair. "He's already stopped feeding off of me at least, so now I look like a boy again."

"Isn't that a little early?"

"Oh, no," Arthur said, waving it off. "He's just switched to regular formula now is all. He's moving up to solids too though."

"He's a fast learner like Arthur," Eames supplied, settling his hand on Judah's head as he walked by to tousle his dark hair and make him giggle, "but he's all personality like me, so I think he got the best of both of us."

"Your personality can be a bit much sometimes," Arthur teased, kissing the baby's forehead and mixing up formula.

"So, you're starting college in a few days, right?" Ariadne asked Eames. "How are you managing all this and working?"

"I sold my house and the valuables in it," Eames shrugged. "It brought forth a pretty penny, and that's helping us get by for now."

"We still both intend to be college graduates," Arthur said, lifting Judah into his arms and pressing a bottle to his lips which he took gratefully. "I'll likely just have to do my classes online like I've done for my high school courses."

"People have been talking about you guys," Ariadne said. "You've been seen buying baby stuff you know. They must think you went crazy and adopted."

"That's alarmingly less crazy than what actually happened," Arthur said, laughing. "You haven't told anyone, have you?"

"Well..."

"Ariadne!" Arthur cried. "I told you not to tell anyone!"

"I couldn't help it! It was Mrs. Cobb! She kept hounding me, and she swore she wouldn't tell anyone else."

"That explains why she recommended me for a full-ride scholarship," Eames offered, chuckling. "I'm shocked she believed you."

"She demanded I bring pictures," Ariadne said.

"Oh, Eames has plenty of those," Arthur smirked. "He's hoarding them in a hat box upstairs."

"Not _hoarding_. Collecting. Once I buy a photo album, it'll be bloody organized, all right? I just keep forgetting."

"He forgets the album but never the camera," Arthur snorted and Ariadne laughed.

"Good thing I brought one," she said, removing it from the basket.

"That's not going to hold all of them," Arthur laughed. "He took pictures every time he moved in his sleep the first week home."

"We'll pick a select few," Eames said, not daring to deny it when they both knew it was true. "You look at that face and tell me you wouldn't do the same, Ariadne."

"He does have a sweet face," Ariadne said, smiling warmly. "So, are you guys going to have more kids?"

"We haven't even talked about that," Eames said, paling a little at the idea of it. "It's a bit too soon to dare thinking of such a thing."

"We don't even know if I still can after the attack," Arthur said distractedly. "I'll ask Yusuf when we go in for his second round of immunizations next week."

"Have you guys even gotten to boink at all?" Ariadne teased.

The two looked at each other as if trying to remember. "Well, there was that time in the laundry room last week-" Arthur started. "Wait... no. No, we didn't really get to finish that."

"On the beach- no, wait that was a dream," Eames said.

After a few minutes they both decided on the answer, "Not really, maybe, I don't remember."

"You guys are so cute," Ariadne said, badly holding back on a grin. "Do you guys even have a picture of you all together?"

Again the answer was discussed before settling on, "No... we don't, do we?"

Fortunately Eames had his camera on him (surprise surprise), and Ariadne took a picture of the family on the couch, Judah sleeping in Arthur's arms.

...and though Arthur had lost his family, and Eames had left his, they weren't alone at all. They'd come together, made a new family, and neither could be upset about anything for long, not with that sweet little smile.

They didn't know if he was an alpha or an omega yet, but neither cared.

They were a family and that was all that mattered.


End file.
